


Confidant

by jeejaschocolate



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anxiety, Ardyn is an old uncle, Begging, Butt Plugs, Coming In Pants, Crossdressing Kink, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Demisexuality, Developing Relationships, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasizing, Fill for the kink meme, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Grief, Group Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurities, Internalized Homophobia, Intimacy, Kinks, Lingerie, M/M, Masturbation, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, Orgasms, Panties, Polyamory, Praise Kink, Prompto Whump, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Sexting, Shame, Sub!Ignis, The bros are basic, background ships, reference to canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-05 11:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 40,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17324534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeejaschocolate/pseuds/jeejaschocolate
Summary: (Written for a prompt on the kink meme)Out of all the things Ardyn has experienced in his (quite long) life, a few fetishes are the least noteworthy. The bros are a different story though. They have their own hang-ups, sexual and otherwise.It turns out Ardyn is the best person to lay their fears to rest.





	1. Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the feels! And because I love old uncle Ardyn who gives no fucks. 
> 
> OP asked for: “Ardyn is old as balls. For the sake of this prompt let’s say he spent the most of his 2000 years doing whatever. He’s seen everything. Nothing surprises him.
> 
> Any is closeted about something they are afraid to share with anyone and/or have some internalized prejudices about it themselves. Maybe they are trans, gay, bi, asexual, etc. Maybe they have some special kind of (but ultimately harmless) kinks or something. Whatever it is, they accidentally reveal it to Ardyn and Ardyn… just doesn’t give a shit. To him it’s like discussing about food preferences, absolutely nothing to be upset about. His smooth, unfazed responses end up acting as a great comfort to Any. 
> 
> Can be shippy or platonic. Like, if kink Ardyn might indulge them in practice because why the hell not.” [Here's the link!](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/5690.html?thread=11429946#cmt11429946)

**Chapter One: Thoughts**

Ardyn felt his age differently at times. Sometimes he almost felt like he belonged in this world,like no time at all had passed between his youth in Solheim and his rather unorthodox present. Then in the blink of an eye a memory would rise to the surface of his thoughts. Something that brought him back years. Decades, centuries. Millennia. Tiny snapshots of all the myriad experiences he’d garnered over the course of his life. Good, bad, mundane. Living for two thousand years had worn the edges off the sting in his experiences, even the new ones. 

Sometimes his existence felt more like marking time than actual living. 

Those times, Ardyn could feel how old he really was. The world had aged and he’d aged with it. No denying it. Sometimes Ardyn was just _weary_. Tired of it all. Even the spite and rage within him—things that propelled him forward when he had nothing else—could seem shallow compared to the sheer monotony of the day to day. 

The trouble there was the fact that he’d run out of ways to keep himself entertained. 

Which is why, when he met Noctis and his little friends, Ardyn saw an opportunity. These four young men were nothing if not entertaining. They were _so young._ So naive and so inexperienced in the art of survival. Four lost boys on a quest to nowhere. How sad and how…cute. There was something darling in it. 

They had some tomfool idea that they needed to be in Altissia. Sure. Why not. Most days they were lucky to make it out of camp with everything intact. 

Ardyn couldn’t help liking them. They got on his good side. All the quips and laughs. The very careful structure of their friendship (their ‘brotherhood’—how _quaint_ ) would probably survive anything. But they still treated their bond like it was as fragile as spun sugar. They were so secretive with each other. Ardyn could tell that much from one night spent in their company prior to their trip to the Disc of Cauthess. 

They laughed and they had each others’ backs, yes. The trademark jabs of male youth. But there were also furtive glances and eyes cut too quickly aside. Blinking, unspoken questions when backs were turned. Things never given words to.

Yes, these boys kept a measured distance around each other. Ardyn found that adorable. Worse yet, _likable_. After all, they wanted to be liked. Especially by each other. That must be why they were so careful not to cross any boundaries. These four young men would do anything to save face in front of the group, to stay in the esteem of their fellow traveling companions. 

And their affection for each other was seemingly limitless. It warmed Ardyn’s old-as-dirt heart. He hadn’t seen a group like this since…

Oh, it had been years.

So, Ardyn decided to continue traveling with them. They seemed to trust him well enough (for some godsforsaken, ill-advised reason). They let him remain at the campsite night after night—never questioning why Ardyn mumbled runic enchantments to himself every time he crossed the barrier of the safe zones. If they even noticed (these boys could be horribly unobservant). They let him follow the Regalia in his car, sometimes even rode shotgun alongside him. Ardyn did all the things they did. He went fishing with Noctis, accompanied Prompto on photo hunts, sat idly by the fire reading Gladiolus’s books, and cooked with Ignis.

He thought, maybe, they liked him too.

Whatever this was, it was comfortable. _Fun_. Their little arrangement. A terribly old creature of the world tagging along with four bright-eyed youths. A friendship like this shouldn’t have worked, probably, but it did. 

The plans Ardyn had waiting for them in Altissia?

Eh. He was getting to that. Or maybe…maybe he’d just leave it. Somehow shopping for lures at the nearest fish market was far more entertaining than watching Noctis slowly go insane in Zegnautus Keep. Besides, plans could always change on a whim. 

He wasn’t _married_ to the plan, after all. He wasn’t anything to anyone. He was just a weary soul looking for a way to pass the time. These four boys seemed to provide a neat solution to that problem for him. Their company made him feel almost…peaceful. Content, in a word. Being content now after all this time would be a fascinating experiment.

Ardyn had certainly been through worse.

___________________________________________________

Gladiolus always spent more time than he needed to cleaning his swords. A habit passed down to him from his father. Broadswords were meant for swinging around like cleavers—they were more like hammers than actual swords—but that didn’t mean they were indestructible. A tiny scratch or a small indent against the blade could fracture the sword in two on a second hit. That could be the difference between life and death on the battlefield. 

So yeah, Gladiolus was actually very meticulous about tending his blades. His father taught him how—as had Cor. These were the men Gladiolus looked up to the most out of everyone in his life. And now his father was…

…it wasn’t a tragedy for an Amicitia to die in battle. In fact it was part of the job. Gladiolus had always known that—they all did. Iris too. Neither of them shed tears for their father’s death. There was only one way to honor him: Live a life he would have been proud of.

Gladiolus passed a cloth over his broadsword. He needed more choji oil. This bottle was running out. 

“A sword master at work. What a sight.” 

Lifting his gaze, Gladiolus saw Ardyn coming to occupy the seat next to him by the campfire. Everyone else had gone to sleep already. He could hear their snores coming from the tent. 

“Heh. Don’t know if I’d call myself a master, but…” Gladiolus wiped the steel of his blade with a little more force. “…thanks, yeah. I guess.” 

He’d decided a while ago to do his best not to make eye contact with Ardyn, if he didn’t have to. He preferred not to put a reason on why. It was just…those eyes. Ardyn had proven himself to be a mostly trustworthy guy so far—nothing glaring on the surface or just underneath, anyway—but still. Those eyes saw a lot. They _had_ seen a lot, possibly a lot of shit. 

Gladiolus didn’t want to fuck with those eyes. He just wanted to stay in his lane and be baseline level polite to Ardyn. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Nonsense,” Ardyn countered, stretching his long legs out in front of him. Easing himself into comfort like a well-kept house cat. This guy could get comfortable anywhere. It was kind of obscene. “I’ve seen a good number of sword arms in my day. Yours is quite fine indeed.” 

Gladiolus hoped the shadows around the campfire hid the blush on his cheeks. He was glad for the night as well. More cover for the twitch underneath his scarred eye—one of his most obvious tells when he was feeling self-conscious. Although he was pretty sure only Ignis knew about that tell. 

“Hmm, looks like you’re running low on choji oil.” Ardyn shook the bottle between two fingers, testing its volume. 

“Uh, yeah.” Gladiolus cleared his throat. “I gotta pick up some more at the next rest stop.”

Ardyn turned to him with a smile. “As it happens, I think I have a mostly full bottle in my pack.” He reached into his inner coat pockets—those things must be fucking bottomless; he was always pulling some random implement out of there—and produced a fresh bottle of oil. Lightly used. Just the brand Gladiolus preferred.

…The fuck was this guy, really?

Yeah, Gladiolus had seen Ardyn handling a sword. He’d seen him in a fight. Yeah, Ardyn had explained to them some distant connection to the Line of Kings—a half-baked explanation for why he had his own Armiger. Not at all an explanation for why it was filled with weapons that were different from Noctis’s. (Although, useful for finding the remaining Royal Arms.) 

And yeah, Gladiolus respected Ardyn as a fighter. All because of this one time when Noctis was getting pummeled by a fiend—caught in the jaws of some crocodile-looking monstrosity—and Ardyn reached his side before Gladiolus. He’d fished Noctis out of the jaws of that creature and healed him right up. Bringing their king back from the brink of death as if it was his job too. 

Gladiolus developed a deep respect for Ardyn that day. Not only because the sword he wielded was legit twice the size of Prompto and he handled it like a pro, but because he cared about their cause. He cared about Noctis. The fastest way into Gladiolus’s good graces was being able to hold your own in battle. The second fastest way was to give a shit about Noctis. Ardyn had done both. 

So Ardyn earned the politeness Gladiolus struggled to give. Even if he didn’t explain everything about where he came from and exactly who—or what—he was. Which made Gladiolus wary to accept anything extra from the man.

Like, for example, a bottle of choji oil produced from nowhere. Gladiolus’s hand hovered uselessly as Ardyn tried to pass it over. He wanted to trust Ardyn, he really did actually. They could use another competent set of hands on their team if nothing else, but…

Working his mouth to one side, Gladiolus risked a glance at Ardyn’s face. Sure enough, they made eye contact.

Those damn eyes. They glittered in the firelight. Reflecting the embers’ blaze with kindred spirit. There was something fiery about Ardyn.

Gladiolus’s pulse was racing. He couldn’t pretend it wasn’t. But, he didn’t have to admit it out loud.

“No, thanks.” He turned back to his sword. “Don’t want to use yours if that’s the only one you have. I can hold off until we find a place.” 

_Think of what your father would say._

Gladiolus had never asked Clarus about any of this— _this_ , always fucking _this_ , of course—but even so. He had a feeling he knew. 

Clarus’s face would have turned cold. His chin tucking down into his neck. Disapproval. Slight shame. The look Gladiolus had grown up avoiding at all costs. A look he’d incurred nonetheless as he got older and made stupid choices. A look that just might haunt Gladiolus for the rest of his life. 

Clarus had been a good father. A great one, even. But that just meant Gladiolus had to work twice as hard not to be a shit son. 

He wouldn’t be. He refused. Even if the weight of _this_ —this thing he’d kept inside himself for years now—was getting harder to bear. Like a pressure cooker reaching its boiling point. Gladiolus thought he could just ignore it, live like it didn’t matter. But…he couldn’t. It _did_ matter.

For some fucking reason, it mattered. And the more he tried to run away from it, the faster it caught up with him. 

He could only pray to whatever gods were out there that Ardyn couldn’t already read it on his face. 

“Suit yourself,” Ardyn said with a shrug. “It’s a trifling matter. And if you change your mind, this choji oil’s not going anywhere. So just ask.” 

“…Thanks.” Why was Gladiolus always being put in a position where he was thanking this man? 

“You’re welcome.” Ardyn sunk lower in his chair. Ever more comfortable. Damn him. 

They sat in silence for a short while. Before Ardyn chimed in again. “A funny thing, our precious supplies. Useful of course. But lightening your load on the battlefield can be a fruitful strategy, as you well know.” He paused. “And one might worry about a comrade who is carrying too much.” 

 Gladiolus saw his own scowl in the mirror of the blade. “So that’s what we are, then? Comrades?”

Ardyn waved his hand flippantly. “On the battlefield, at least.” 

“Right.” 

There was no expectation of being anything else. Gladiolus had been raised as a solider. A comrade in arms. The shield to the king. A shield did not need to feel anything besides a love of duty and the satisfaction of a life driven by purpose. 

Clarus hadn’t even cried when Gladiolus’s mother died. Gladiolus never forgot that. It made his own emotions feel small, childish. The fact that he wanted to—

There were so many things he wanted that he shouldn’t. A better man than him would be able to chalk those feelings up to distractions. 

A better man, a better man. 

Gladiolus swept all his cleaning tools into their proper bag. He stood up abruptly, swinging his sword over one shoulder. As much a shield for himself and his own fragile ego as it was a show of strength.

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.” He didn’t look at Ardyn when he said it. Better not to.

With that pronouncement, Gladiolus marched into the tent. Hoping it would put an end to the conversation and any lingering questions. 

If he deflected questions about himself then he wouldn’t have to come up with answers from somewhere inside—

Shields were supposed to be good at deflecting, damn it.

________________________________________________

Ardyn tended the fire until daybreak. He didn’t have any need for sleep, but he didn’t see a reason to spend his time running about aimlessly. Best just find a chair and sit in it until the boys woke up. 

It left time for idle thoughts too. 

He pitied Gladiolus as much as he found the young man’s predicament laughable. Mountains out of molehills didn’t even begin to cover it—more like galaxies out of dust. Although there was something existential about that all the same. 

Ardyn wasn’t blind and he wasn’t stupid. He’d seen the lingering gazes Gladiolus gave his friends when he thought they weren’t looking. Particularly around the area of Noctis’s shapely behind, or Ignis’s deliciously long legs. He’d seen the awkward way Gladiolus stopped himself from roughhousing with Prompto. As if cut short by a leash. 

The hungry look in the man’s eye when he watched them fight. Not bloodlust or love of violence, just regular infatuation. 

Gladiolus wanted them bad. All three of them. That commander as well, Cor the Immortal. Maybe Ardyn too. And he could never admit it for fear of what his (ostensibly straight as far as they would admit, though the four of them were so buttoned up about sex that it was impossible to know for sure) friends would think. It was pitiable, of course.

Especially pitiable every time Gladiolus slunk away into the bushes to relieve himself. After an evening spent dogging his friends’ steps with hungry eyes. He came back with a distinct limp that told of only one thing—if he made it any more obvious, he might as well have been masturbating in front of them all. Shoving his fingers as far up his ass as he could, moaning their names and begging.

Gladiolus would make a wonderful lover. No matter whom he chose to bed. Even if he preferred to be on the bottom, it would be a wild ride. Ardyn could discern that much.

Shame to waste such amorous passion on false pride. Frustration and silly insecurity. Gladiolus could have been spending his time getting fucked by every sighted man on Eos if he wanted—would anyone be fool enough to say no to such an opportunity?—but instead he wasted it feeling guilty. 

Ridiculous. It brought a chuckle to Ardyn’s lips. Except, he imagined it was torture for Gladiolus. To be surrounded by such beautiful men and not be able to comfortably acknowledge his own attraction! How sad.

But Ardyn could also tell Gladiolus’s barriers were wearing thin. He might explode one day during battle—run over and jump Noctis in the middle of a sword swing. Pin their king to their ground and ravish him within an inch of his life. 

It would be amazing to watch, Ardyn wagered.

For practical reasons though, it was probably better to be avoided. As much as Ardyn wanted to pull out a bag of popcorn and enjoy the show, he knew it was a needless point of contention within the group. It hurt their harmony to have Gladiolus so focused on his own hang-ups. Distracted by his own cock. And ass.

What a waste of a fine ass, too. 

If only he could make Gladiolus see reason.

___________________________________________________________

Gladiolus sucked down the rest of his beer. It was his pre-dinner beer. Ignis was already firing up the grill. Noctis and Prompto were off screwing around with the camera somewhere. 

Gladiolus just needed one beer a day to keep his sanity. Just one. It wasn’t even really cheating on his meal plan. It was common sense.

If he didn’t drink, he’d be tempted to think about the way Noctis deadlifted that broadsword in a fight that afternoon. Those scrawny arms were getting stronger. Very much so. 

A muscly body and a face that made Gladiolus’s heart want to cry. It just wasn’t fair. 

And Ignis…Ignis had bent over backwards in a complete circle. He probably hadn’t even realized the way he thrust himself towards Gladiolus for a moment there. But Gladiolus would be remembering the outline of his friend’s cock for days to come. 

He could pretty much imagine the general size and shape of it. Ignis was probably pretty well hung for a skinny guy. 

Fuck, Gladiolus’s breath sped up despite the beer in his system. He probably needed to go take care of this before dinner.

Before someone happened to look in his lap and see exactly what Gladiolus was working with. 

He didn’t want to imagine the laughter—the disgust—in his friends’ voices if they only knew. But he did anyway. Helplessly crushing on his three best friends was completely out of character for Gladiolus. Well, out of character for the person he tried to be. The warrior. The guy who defeated Gilgamesh. Who knelt for no man. 

…Even when he wanted to kneel…

Ignis’s cock would fit in his mouth like a marshmallow, Gladiolus fantasized. Soft at first. Then he’d suck it a bit and get it nice and hard. Until Ignis was groaning, rocking his hips back and forth. Forcing the taste of that cock into the shallow space of Gladiolus’s throat, where he could taste it for days afterwards. 

With Noctis behind him. Angling those royal hips where Gladiolus wanted them the most. Muttering soft words of praise, how good it felt to be inside him. Uncertain and unskilled because he was just a kid, but so so good. Noctis wouldn’t quit before the end no matter what. 

Prompto could sit there taking pictures or jacking off while he watched. Gladiolus was into either. 

He just wanted his friends to fuck him. For hours and hours. _Hard_. 

_Fuck me…_ Gladiolus whispered as he touched himself. 

He knew he shouldn’t want it. It was a violation of the bonds they shared to be fantasizing about them like that. Besides, it was such a pathetic thing for a man to want. Gladiolus was supposed to be the lady’s man—the experienced one, the one the younger guys went to for advice about women. And sure, he liked women too. He’d lost his v-card at sixteen and never regretted it. 

But deep down, below the surface…there were other things he wanted too. He wanted to sleep with guys. Even though it went against everything his father expected of him. Even though it would have made his father turn away from him in shame if he ever found out. Yes, even in spite of all that, Gladiolus wanted it.

He’d given in only once. After a drunken night at the bar, laughing and bullshitting about this and that…he and Nyx hooked up. Nyx, one of the people Gladiolus had been low-key crushing on since he was old enough to walk. Yeah. Gladiolus had spent the night at Nyx’s place and Nyx took his other v-card. The one that there was no coming back from.

It was the night of Gladiolus’s life. He’d never been able to get it out of his head, not even now after everything that happened to Nyx and him and everyone else in Insomnia…Gladiolus still got himself off thinking about Nyx’s mouth on his body. The hard line of his cock. Splitting Gladiolus open in the sweetest way. Those built arms caging his head as Nyx thrust into him. Soft—not too fast—but _powerful_.

_There you go, baby. Like that?_ Nyx had said to him. _Yeah, you like that._

Gladiolus had been helpless to respond. His mind melted into a puddle and all he had left was pleasure. The drool dripping down his chin, the tears in his eyes. Nyx. Filling him to the brim until he exploded with a sob. 

Nyx made him fucking cry that night. Gladiolus practically remembered the date (mostly because he knew his tattoo wasn’t even finished yet). He might as well mark it in his fucking calendar for the significance it had in his life. 

Afterwards, Nyx played it cool. Didn’t call him. Acted casual in front of everyone else. None of their mutual friends ever suspected. 

Which was a relief, okay? A godsdamn relief! Not a knife in the gut. Not a stone in his heart. Nope. Not at all. Gladiolus was supposed to be a shield. 

Shield’s deflected. _Deflected_. 

That night had wrecked him for good. Now Gladiolus wanted to be fucked all the time. Couldn’t help imagining what it would be like with his friends. The three most attractive guys in his life, and the three people he should never ever try to fuck. 

Damn it all.

“Ah, what a fulfilling day.” 

And Ardyn. This fucking guy. Gladiolus surreptitiously covered the bulge between his legs with one meaty arm. If he stalked away now Ardyn would think he was an asshole. He already kind of felt bad about how things had gone the other night, around the campfire. Ardyn was just being polite and Gladiolus…

_Think of what your father would say._

“Yup.” He sat there, pretending he wasn’t getting hornier by the second. That he wasn’t thinking about rubbing his knees together to ease some of the tension in his manhood. That he didn’t want to lean over and kiss Ardyn hard on the mouth, to scrape his face against the older man’s stubble until it burned the next day. 

Why did a man’s mouth feel so damn good…?

“I never get tired of watching you young men work,” Ardyn continued. He grabbed a beer from Gladiolus’s icebox and popped it open. Signaling that he was staying a while. “I’ll tell you this, you’re some of the most handsome fighters on Eos. No question there.” 

Gladiolus actually laughed at that. The timing for that comment was just hysterical. If only Ardyn knew! 

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Gladiolus agreed.

…Wait, he _said_ that? Out loud? On purpose?!

Panic and embarrassment filled Gladiolus’s face all at once. He whipped around to look at Ardyn, trying to figure out if Ardyn had heard him. Or if he even understood the gravity of what Gladiolus just said. By the gods, please! Let it go over his head!

Ardyn took a hearty swig of the beer in his hand. His throat worked expertly around the carbonation, almost like he didn’t feel it. His face was calm. Impassive. 

“Indeed. It almost feels unfair, a group as attractive as you all working together.” Ardyn smiled at Gladiolus. “Almost.” 

There was something meaningful in the tone of Ardyn’s voice. Gladiolus didn’t want to think too hard on it, but he knew he should. He was starting to feel like Ardyn might _know_ something. That could be a disaster. 

Was this going to turn into a blackmail situation real fast?

Gladiolus ran a hand through his hair. “I mean…yeah, whatever. If guys are your type.” Could he turn this around on Ardyn? Make him look like a pervert for thinking things like that? 

Ardyn tossed his head back and laughed. Thank the gods they were well out of Ignis’s earshot, on the far side of the camp. Surrounded only by the runes and the trees. “My, but whose type wouldn’t they be? Beautiful, lithe, young, fit. They’ve got a brutally powerful combination, these friends of yours.” 

_I know, right?_ Gladiolus wanted to say. Finally someone who saw how stupidly attractive his friends were— 

—but this was Ardyn. Gladiolus shouldn’t dive right into camaraderie with this guy, even if he almost…kind of wanted to.

A tiny pinprick of light pierced Gladiolus’s heart at the words all the same. At least—the very fucking least—he wasn’t alone. Someone else saw the way these guys deserved to be on the cover of every magazine in the world. Porno or not. 

“The worst part of it is,” Ardyn took another swig of beer. “They don’t even know it. They walk around as if beauty like theirs is commonplace.” He shook his head whimsically. “Believe me, it isn’t.” 

So. Fucking. True. 

In a lot of ways, that was the worst part. Noctis, Ignis, and Prompto. They were the most unassuming guys ever. Hell, Prompto even thought he was _bad_ looking. Noctis was the most unconfident guy in the world, maybe literally. And Ignis…Ignis acted like baser desires didn’t factor into his worldview.

They were hopeless.

And Gladiolus was hopelessly in love. He wanted to watch Noctis come undone from an orgasm that made him feel like the man he should be. He wanted to make Prompto cum hard enough that he tapped Gladiolus on the shoulder every night, ready for more. He wanted Ignis to push him down and take control…

He shouldn’t want anything. He should be focusing on keeping them all safe. Not keeping them all in his arms—

“How is a man supposed to stand it,” Ardyn mused. “Distracted by such teases?” 

Defeat filled Gladiolus’s stomach. Bubbled up into his mouth like bile. “Yeah. That’s what I’d like to know,” he said, not even trying to stop the words anymore. 

If Ardyn knew the truth then…Gladiolus also knew about him. They both knew. They were the same in that respect. There couldn’t be blackmail if they both knew—

There wouldn’t be.

Hesitantly, Gladiolus turned to face Ardyn. They shared a look. A nod. A moment of something that felt like commiseration. 

It nearly broke the man who was supposed to be unyielding. Cracks in the fixture. Seams across a steel plate. That’s what that look did to Gladiolus. Just to be seen—to be seen for something that he was (wasn’t supposed to be!) but not judged. Ardyn wasn’t laughing at him for his admission, wasn’t making a joke out of it. He seemed to understand. Not just the desire inside Gladiolus, but also the pain. The frustration. 

…Did he understand the shame too?

The space between them felt like it was filled with smoke. Heavy, palpable. Gladiolus could barely breathe or think. He wanted nothing more than to lay his heart on the table for Ardyn to pick over. Like a surgeon with a scalpel. If he told Ardyn everything then he could depend on Ardyn to judge him as he should be judged.

If he bared his soul, maybe it would be a little lighter when he took it back. 

“I…I mean…” Gladiolus struggled for words.

Ardyn put a heavy hand on Gladiolus’s shoulder. A life raft. “No need to explain yourself. Not to me, of all people. Besides it seems rather self-explanatory. A matter of course, if you ask me.” 

…Could it really be that simple? Gladiolus blinked owlishly at Ardyn and waited for him to continue.

“How could you fight with them and ignore them at the same time?” Ardyn was speaking softer now. Perhaps incidentally. “It’s either one or the other, I’m afraid. And that choice has already been made.” 

True. Harsh, but true. 

Gladiolus would never leave them. He’d stand with them until the day he died, even afterwards. If it drove him insane to be so close, then…he’d just have to go insane. 

“It gets better when you acknowledge it, though,” Ardyn pontificated. “When you embrace the fact that these are the most fuckable boys this side of the Altissian sea, it becomes a little more bearable. Like a sport rather than a chore, if you take my meaning.” 

Gladiolus wasn’t sure that he did. But it sounded like a goal he should strive for. A place where his desire could be bearable. 

“But I shouldn’t…” Gladiolus began. Ardyn must know about this part, right? The guilty part? The son shaming the father who gave his life for the king his good for nothing son wanted to fuck? 

Ardyn shrugged. It could have been a thesis, that shrug. It conveyed so much. “Should, shouldn’t. These are capricious things. Take your pick, I say, if you have to choose between the two. There’s really no difference.” 

He grinned at Gladiolus. “You’ve done nothing you should be ashamed of. You’re an honorable man, Gladiolus Amicitia. And your friends see you as nothing less.” 

“Tch.” Gladiolus wished he could believe that. “If they found out…”

“If they found out, it would change nothing.” Ardyn leaned back in his seat, never moving his hand from Gladiolus’s shoulder. “You’re still the warrior they know. The man who drinks noodles like water. Who constantly comes to their aid in battle. The same.”

Gladiolus closed his eyes against the warmth of those words. He’d wanted to hear them for so long it felt like he’d forgotten the sensation of warmth. Like he’d been freezing and Ardyn just offered him a warm blanket. 

“You’re a normal man, my friend.” Ardyn patted him amicably. “Desire is nothing more than a need like any other. You can control it, but you cannot erase it. It’s futile to try.” Ardyn looked up at the darkening sky. “I should know…”

Some day, Gladiolus wanted to hear that story. 

But Ignis was waving them over to start dinner. Prompto and Noctis were already sitting down to eat. It would look suspicious if Gladiolus and Ardyn stayed out of it. 

So, Gladiolus put his hand on top of Ardyn’s. A gesture he’d been taught was a sign of masculine affection. (Or at least, one type of affection.) 

“Thanks,” he said with clarity. Meaning the word whole-heartedly.

Here he was again, thanking Ardyn. Maybe that was going to become a norm for him. Especially if Ardyn was the kind of person Gladiolus could talk to about…things. Things he questioned (did being bisexual make you indecisive as a person? Was he confused or was he actually living some version of truth? Was it wrong to still be hung up Nyx, even though the man was dead?). 

“You’re quite welcome,” Ardyn answered. Rising to his feet. “Like I said, lessening your burden in battle can be a strategy. Should be, I think.”

Fuck. Ardyn was right about that. 

Gladiolus already felt better. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have ideas for Ardyn to comfort all the bros in time ;) Next up is Prompto. Their secret kinks might get gradually weirder as we go on (but they're still pretty vanilla at the end of the day, these guys are just basic af. I stand by that headcanon.) 
> 
> Much love to all! ^___^


	2. Massages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto doesn't want to stop and smell the roses. He really doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with some filth. 
> 
> I bring porn and I bring feels. Maybe not equally? Lol but check the tags, fam.

**Chapter Two: Massages**

The first two times Ardyn’s boots went missing, he thought he’d truly lost them. The idea didn’t particularly bother him. Perhaps some curious tonberry made off with them, added it to some collection of random human artifacts. Or maybe Ardyn just legitimately forgot where he left his own boots. Wouldn’t be the first time, certainly wouldn’t be the last.

The third time they went missing, Ardyn began to suspect something. Especially considering the way they were returned.

It happened while the group was camping by the Vesperpool near that fishing spot Noctis had been meaning to visit for several days. They had all taken their shoes off to go wading in the water with the chocobos, and Ardyn trailed behind to escort Noctis to the farther cove. When he returned, his shoes were strangely missing. 

“That’s weird,” Noctis commented. “I thought you put your boots right next to mine.” 

Indeed, Noctis’s shoes were well intact where he’d left them. But Ardyn’s? Entirely disappeared. 

Ardyn sat near the embankment, drying his feet on the damp grass. “Yes it is odd…” Especially considering this wasn’t the first time. 

Patterns were not something that should be overlooked. 

He decided to wait by the lake for a bit longer. Something told him that his boots didn’t want to be found right now. No sense wasting the energy looking for them. He might as well wait until they came back on their own. (Noctis didn’t quite understand that logic, but he left well enough alone and headed back to camp). 

Besides, the sunset over the Vesperpool was quite the sight. Being forcibly barefoot left Ardyn some time to enjoy it. 

Sure enough, his boots found their way to him. After only a few moments’ time.

Prompto appeared carrying one boot in each hand. Casually, holding them by the tops as if he just happened to pick them up. He emerged from the south direction where no one had just been. Only a scraggly assortment of weeds and fiends resided in that direction. 

“Hey big guy.” Prompto smiled his cheeky, all-purpose grin. “Found these over there. Were you looking for them?” 

Ardyn looked up at the younger man from where he sat. The setting sun on Prompto’s back obscured his face. Made him unreadable—well, even more unreadable than usual. After all, that grin he always put on was a calculated cover. Ardyn recognized it by now. 

“Ah. Thank you.” Ardyn took his boots. His eyes slid up to Prompto again, where he found the younger man glancing nervously in the direction of camp. “In fact, I wasn’t looking for them. I had a feeling things would work out for the best.” 

Prompto scratched the back of his neck and laughed. Another cynical fabrication. “Heh. Yeah.” 

From this, Ardyn already had all the information he needed to come to a reasonable conclusion as to what was going on. He might have found it vaguely amusing—if not for that sad look towards the haven. Anxiety and buried shame. The kind of guilt you saw on a man’s face when he knew he had done wrong and was now living some type of lie he couldn’t get out of. 

Ardyn pitied that look. 

He liked Prompto. Quite well, in fact. Prompto had a remarkable kind of emotional intelligence. He could read people from nothing but looks and intuition—at least, he could read his traveling companions in that way. He always knew what to say when one of the others fell into a mood. A joke or a heartfelt moment aside telling them how much he admired them. It was touching and Ardyn would have liked him for that alone. But he also knew the story of Prompto’s birth, his origins. The things he’d had to overcome, the things he would soon learn in the future. He knew that Prompto’s intuition came from a sense of self preservation he’d had to cultivate on his own when he was young. That also struck a chord in Ardyn’s sappy old heart. 

Oh the pain of rejection and isolation. Ardyn had had more than enough encounters with those feelings in the past and he remembered how they tasted. Prompto was a man stuffing his face with everything else that came his way, forcing himself to be whatever he needed to be, so that he’d never have to taste those feelings again. 

Moreover, what a likable, attractive face to go with all that baggage. His lean, hard-earned body didn’t hurt either. Ardyn liked young men with a bit of muscle and a waist that curved out around the hips. If Prompto put on a few pounds, he would blossom into a creature of deadly allure. To Ardyn at least. But Prompto never would, of course, because he’d never let himself. 

How unfortunate. 

All these things considered, Ardyn genuinely appreciated Prompto. He didn’t mind if the young man found some use for his boots. They were a sturdy pair that had carried Ardyn through decades at this point. He might as well share the wealth in that regard. 

The specifics didn’t bother him. They were mundane at worst. 

So he graciously accepted his boots and added, “The view is rather lovely right here. Makes for a good opportunity to stop and, ah, smell the roses a bit.” 

Prompto froze at those words. He looked Ardyn up and down with wild eyes, barely concealed by a cautious half-grin. His hands were immaculately clean. Fingers stained around the cuticles from hard scrubbing. They quivered underneath Ardyn’s stare, as if caught. Thrashing to escape. 

Ardyn just smiled and looked into the sunset. It was coming on evening now. The daemons inside him were always more…lively at this time. But he’d made peace with them after all these years. Right around now he welcomed the activity inside him as if greeting housemates back home after a day’s work. 

“You can have a seat if you want,” he offered. “Take in the sights. Keep an old man company.” 

Prompto blinked, reassuming his normal state of veiled cynicism. “Nah. I’m alright. I’ve seen a few of these, like, breathtaking sunsets before. Kind of loses its flare after a while, you know?” 

Ardyn said nothing. He’d seen sunsets literally countless times before in his life. But, he was starting to think, perhaps never twice in the same way. 

“Suit yourself.” Leaving his boots off, Ardyn dug his toes into the muddy banks of the Vesperpool. He decided to linger there. It felt nice to be barefoot once and a while. 

He paid no mind to the sideways glance Prompto gave him. The way the young man’s throat bobbed up and down as he tried, and failed, to swallow. The hasty swipe of a sweaty palm against a thigh. 

It was only a few days before Ardyn’s boots went missing a fourth time. This time he was expecting it. Surrendering to another opportunity to coincide with nature, Ardyn laid down in a clearing and covered his face with his hat. He’d rest by the haven until Prompto decided he was finished with those boots. 

That boy might be a while anyway. If the desperate look he’d given Ardyn at the Vesperpool meant anything.

_____________________________________________________________

Prompto had tried for the longest time to blame the whole thing on his childhood. Honestly, he couldn’t be too far off, right? Like that definitely had _something_ to do with it. His mom especially. She was a crazy clean freak, and that’s what her friends called her to her face. The house had always been immaculate. Completely spotless. Cleaning products were the smell Prompto associated the most with growing up. He thought washing television screens was a normal Saturday activity, and that’s why televisions were cheap and didn’t last. Astrals help him the first time he saw video games on a plasma screen. He thought he’d been teleported into the future. 

His mom taught him that washing your hands for anything less than eight minutes at a time was barbaric. If you were in a rush you could maybe do seven and then get away with blobbing on hand sanitizer on your way out the door. Prompto’s hands were dry and cracked throughout elementary school—yet another thing kids picked on.

As he got older and became aware of his mom’s hang-ups, Prompto adjusted. Mostly, anyway. He was pretty good. He’d gotten his hand-washing routine down to two minutes by the time he graduated high school. One full minute now that they were on the road. 

He was doing great! 

It helped always being around the guys, though. Even when Prompto’s anxiety was at its worst, he couldn’t solve the problem by steam cleaning his jeans ten times or mopping the floors wall-to-wall. He had to sit down, talk to his friends, and take his mind off things. Noctis was really good with that. He almost always agreed when Prompto tried to drag him off on a photo hunt. Focusing on the pictures helped a lot too. 

At least Prompto had control over the world presented in those tiny snapshots. If nothing else. 

So yeah. He was a mess of hang-ups. He’d even admitted that to Noctis at some point on their trip. 

But…he never got around to admitting the worst of them. And as long as he had any kind of sense left in his head, he never would. 

When he was young, he hadn’t even known it was wrong. It was just…natural to him. The first time he masturbated—fuck, the first time he felt _those_ kinds of feelings at all—he was looking at a magazine picture of a guy’s bare feet. Wasn’t even a porno mag. It was like the Times or something, whatever his parents kept in the house, and there was an ad for shorts or polo shirts or whatever. But that’s not what Prompto saw.

Nope. 

The model was fully clothed, standing on the beach looking into the sunset. A dramatic but playful shot of the guy with his hip to one side, eyes in the distance. Emphasis on sophistication and thoughtfulness, plus a great body. You know, the things that really sold clothes. His shoes were off too. Feet poised delicately on the sand in a way that never happened in real life. Probably was some kind of set. 

Something clicked in Prompto’s head. He got so turned on staring at that guy’s feet—and this was before he even knew the words for that feeling. As he got older, he didn’t question it. He just reached for a magazine, dog-eared at the pages with the best feet, and touched himself. 

It was perfect. Fucking innocent even. Just something he knew to do to make himself feel good. 

Of course by the time he was fifteen he discovered actual porn. And was moderately surprised that feet didn’t really factor into it. Like yeah, the porn was hot. _Really_ hot. Some guy eating a woman out and then fucking her with her legs in air…sure, that got Prompto off too. Changed his whole world, actually. To the point where 90% of his thoughts were about sex after that (like most fifteen year olds). 

Regular porn was great and it worked for him. But. Godsdamnit, _but_. Regular porn didn’t rattle his core, didn’t drag something primal from the inside of his gut to the tips of the hairs on arms. Didn’t make him cum like he was on a rollercoaster, peaking and falling again and again and again. 

He only got that feeling when he was looking at feet. Specifically, a grown man’s feet. Barefoot—a special kind of naked that got Prompto’s dick hard without even asking. Sometimes a woman’s feet worked for him too, but they had to be framed by dirt or sand or something. He didn’t know why. 

In fact he couldn’t really explain any of it. But the why didn’t matter so much as he got older. He learned gradually that being into feet was weird. People made fun of guys who had a foot fetish—so of course, Prompto made fun of them too. Just to cover his ass. The last thing he needed was _yet another_ quirk to make him different from everyone else. 

He didn’t want to be weird. He didn’t want to be into something other people laughed at, something they found gross. He didn’t want to have to find some online community of people who protected their preferences with a kind of dedication Prompto just didn’t have. He wanted to be _normal_. To be cool and good-looking…

…like Noctis. 

It wasn’t fair that Noctis happened to have amazing feet. Girlish in that they were on the small side, but bony and wide around the top of the bridge like a man’s. Prompto saw Noctis’s bare feet one time when he slept over his apartment playing video games. It was a rough night. The second Prompto saw those feet he couldn’t stop staring. 

He wanted to touch them so bad. He would be gentle. He’d just run his fingers along the skin from toe to ankle. Graze the sole of Noctis’s foot until it twitched (was Noctis ticklish? Fuck, Prompto thought he probably was and that made him go crazy). He wanted to suck the meat of Noctis’s arches into his mouth. It would taste awesome, he knew. Clean, like soap. But…maybe a _little_ dirty, a tiny bit smelly because Noctis had just taken off his socks—

That last thought did him in. Prompto needed to excuse himself to the bathroom and jerk off right then and there. It was humiliating and so, so fucking wrong. _But_. What else could he do? He couldn’t pop a boner in front of his best friend and explain it away so easily—they had just made popcorn, the game wasn’t even on yet. There was no explanation. 

Prompto knew he was fucked up. There was just something wrong with his brain, probably. And his mom and all that stuff. Cleanliness had been beaten into his head for so long that Prompto’s brain went completely the other way when he started getting off. Now he was into something totally dirty. That had to be part of it. 

And yeah, he could hate everything. The world, his parents, his own body. The things that made him this disgusting thing he was. He could turn all his anger outward like that and make it a whole big deal. Except, Prompto wasn’t like that. He didn’t dwell in anger. He hated being alone. He had friends now—like, actual friends, three guys who put up with him and didn’t mind sharing a small tent with him every night. He wanted to keep those friends.

So, Prompto did what he had to do. He buried it. Made sure never to leave his foot porn (magazine clippings of bare feet) where anyone would find it. In fact he burned the whole binder before he left home for the road trip. Kept his hard drive under lock and key, almost literally. Every time he snuck a glance at something on his phone, he deleted it immediately. Planted some pictures of women in lacy underthings as subterfuge. If anyone broke his password, they would think he was just a normal dude looking at lingerie models. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

He was doing _really_ great. 

Except, burying his feelings didn’t always work. Most of the time it did. Most of the time he was able to compartmentalize the part of him that wanted to stare at feet—particularly his friends’ feet, because holy godsdamn they all had something to show off in that department—and focus on their day’s tasks. 

But sometimes those same feelings snuck up on him and hit him fast. Hard, like a catoblepas stampede. When that happened, every second he tried to ignore it came back to bite him in the ass. He _needed_ to get off. Like immediately. And he needed to do it his own way. The way he was programmed to. 

So…he’d fallen into the habit of stealing shoes. Okay, not stealing. Borrowing. He always gave them back! In total he had them for maybe like five minutes, if that (masturbating sporadically made him kind of a jack rabbit in terms of stamina, which would have been embarrassing if it wasn’t so fortunate in this case). Most of the time he stole— _borrowed_ —Noctis’s shoes, but he switched it up too. Ignis’s every now and then. Gladiolus’s when he got the chance (that guy almost never went barefoot, it was kind of weird. Was that a survivalist thing?). All he needed to do was wait until they went to sleep or until they went to take a bath in the river. Or until they slept at a motel. Prompto could even ask Noctis to stop at a motel for the night and Noctis almost always agreed, without even pressing him for a why.

It was stupid how easy it was to do. 

He didn’t even do much with the shoes once he had them. Found a private place, usually the wilderness, but sometimes a lobby bathroom or a diner restroom. Not glamorous places but Prompto wasn’t doing anything fancy. He was just…looking, mostly. Just looking at those shoes could give Prompto a lot of information. 

The parts of the shoes that were the most worn told Prompto where his friends put most of their weight. The most common places were the balls of the feet and the heel, but Ignis’s were also really worn around the toes. Because of all his gymnastics on the battlefield probably. All those flips and spins. If Prompto felt along the inside, he could feel the indents across the top were his friends’ feet left an impression. Those feet lived in these shoes day after day. These shoes were fucking lucky in Prompto’s book. He wished he could spend a day as a pair of shoes—just one day—and that was a really messed up wish.

But with his hand down his pants, Prompto didn’t care anymore. Couldn’t. His dick was straining, so hard it actually hurt. The feel of his hands was almost too much to bear. Prompto felt up every inch of those shoes, like a blind man trying to memorize the feel, and pressed his cheek against the tip. He knew he was going to cum. The size and shape of those shoes put pictures in his head of exactly how wide and how long his friends’ feet were. The tip of the toes might as well have been a cock, with how reverently Prompto put his face to it. 

The only thing he really needed to do was bury his nose in the center, right where the scent was strongest. One whiff and Prompto was cumming like he was dying, twitching and spilling into his hand as if he were withstanding some kind of torture. That smell. It was nasty but it proved that this was real. As real as the feet Prompto wanted so bad. These were his friends’ shoes and they used them every day. The evidence was right there on his nose. 

Maybe once—once—Prompto sucked the tongue of Ignis’s shoes into his mouth. Just once! Because Ignis was the only one with leather shoes (the other guys wore plastic) and leather felt so fucking good on his tongue. Leather carried a kind of taste and Prompto thought he could taste Ignis’s feet just a tiny bit when he sucked on them. But seconds after cumming, Prompto felt terrible. Ignis liked his things orderly and neat. He didn’t deserve some pervert ruining the material with his dirty mouth…

Every time Prompto did it, he felt bad. Like really, really bad. He was doing something stupid and wrong—was this betraying them? Was it nonconsensual in a horrible way? Probably! Worse yet, Prompto couldn’t fucking stop. Once he started and got away with it the first time, he was doing it again less than a week later. It was addictive and Prompto was a bad person. He couldn’t get off the way he craved without it. 

At the very least, Prompto made sure to clean his friends’ shoes when he was finished. He made reasonably sure not to get any cum on them if he could—he did his very best—and whether that happened or not, he cleaned those shoes top to bottom every time. Even sprayed some freshener in them to make them smell better. 

His friends somehow didn’t notice. Ignis still cleaned his shoes with leather polish periodically anyway, commenting only once how he would have imagined the damage to be worse. They never brought it up and it seemed like they didn’t really have time to put the pieces together. What with the fall of Insomnia, the end of the world, and actually important things going on.

Just like that, Prompto became a man living a double life. A fun, chipper friend most of the time, a sneaky foot creep the rest of the time. 

It was hell, actually. But he never got caught. In that sense he should have been thankful. And he was. He knew to count his blessings where he could. 

Until Ardyn started hanging around. Prompto didn’t really know what to make of the guy—not even after he started traveling with them for real. Ardyn’s emotional signals were all over the place, to the point that Prompto couldn’t really get a read on him. 

Was Ardyn happy doing this road trip? Did he have any kind of motivation? Was he secretly a douchebag waiting for the chance to screw them over? 

Prompto had no idea but like the rest of his friends he eventually learned to live with it. In fairness, a huge factor there was the fact that Ardyn had the most gorgeous feet Prompto had ever seen in his whole damn life. 

Ardyn’s feet were big—bigger than Gladiolus’s even, somehow. Those boots he wore were gigantic. Worn down almost everywhere, like he carried his weight all over and was weighed down by something in every part of his body. It was weird. The shoes were also really old. They smelled different than anything Prompto could remember. Maybe the nature in far away places. Grass and sand and dirt. _Time_. Human stuff aged in the periphery of everything Prompto knew about the world.

It turned him on to no end. 

Prompto could cum twice touching those boots. Two times in a row where the earth fell into pieces around him and he came so hard he almost choked. Prompto made a habit out of it. Once that started, he stole Ardyn’s shoes every chance he could. 

He thought maybe Ardyn had him figured out. 

It was the way Ardyn looked at him that time at the Vesperpool. His eyes knew. And that comment—‘smell the roses,’ with just a slight pause at the beginning. It meant something. It had to. 

But Ardyn never confronted Prompto about it. He just kind of lounged around every time Prompto took his boots. Like he was _waiting_ for them, for Prompto. That was…it couldn’t possibly be true! …Could it? Could Ardyn know a thing like that about Prompto and seriously not give a shit? 

No, no. No way. That was crazy talk. Prompto must have been reading the signs wrong. Ardyn was an odd duck and he probably thought he just kept losing his shoes somewhere, or that some tonberry had them or something. That made a lot more sense. 

Either way, nothing could make Prompto stop. He started doing it more and more—especially once he realized that Ardyn left his feet uncovered for a while even after Prompto brought the boots back. The sight of those feet, squishing around in the mud or the grass…Prompto’s second orgasm happened because he remembered that sight. Knew it was waiting for him once he was finished. Ardyn’s feet were so beautiful they ought to be in a museum somewhere. Curated and shit. Like, precious.

It was starting to be a problem. Now every time his friends left him alone for a minute, Prompto was sneaking away with Ardyn’s boots. He couldn’t control it anymore. It was like something had taken over him—his dick, his brain, his hands—and now he needed to do it more than ever.

He was screwed. Royally. And haha, but seriously? Fuck. 

___________________________________________

The tenth time (or was it the eleventh? the twelfth? Eh, Ardyn was losing count) Ardyn’s shoes went missing, he was distracted. By now he’d come to expect being periodically shoeless as the days went on. He’d gotten used to it, even liked it. His chance to bond with the environment and feel his feet against the earth. 

But his damnable cellular phone was making it hard for him to enjoy it this time. He’d pressed something—Shiva only knew what, some button on the touch screen that activated something else and then another thing—and now his phone was vibrating and beeping sanctimoniously at the top of every hour. It was exceedingly annoying. Why had his phone decided to turn into some crowing rooster that boasted a song to the world like the Gods’ gift to mankind every time the hour changed? Not to mention it was unsafe, if they were trying to use stealth to approach an enemy and suddenly Ardyn’s phone started chirping like an opera tenor. 

He couldn’t figure out how to turn the alarm off. This new phone he’d gotten before he departed Niflheim was still a mystery to him (he’d been fine with the other phone he used to have, that one was almost intuitive. But this one? Why did they make it so unfathomably difficult to use?). It was starting to _irk_ him after several minutes pressing the same buttons over and over, getting nowhere.

Ardyn’s will tended to erode when he was irked. Remarkably fast. 

Prompto usually helped with things like this. Phones and cameras and whatnot. That boy had an infinite amount of patience with Ardyn in that regard. Something about his nature—actually, the boy was a wonderful teacher. Would probably be great with animals and children and all that…

Ardyn sighed out loud. He wasn’t an animal or a child. But, he was ready to throw this glorified piece of plastic into the sea. So. Whatever that made him.

Scratching his scalp irritably, Ardyn glanced towards the thicket where Prompto had absconded with his boots. Really, the kid was just over there. He could probably hear Ardyn from here if he spoke loud enough. 

Although, it was clear that Prompto had not finished yet. In the literal sense. Ardyn wasn’t in the habit of disturbing the young man when he was hard at work. Everyone deserved private time. But, his patience was wearing thin. As was his phone’s projected lifespan. 

Huffing, Ardyn fiddled with his device for a few more minutes. He pressed something else and now the phone started vibrating in odd intervals—once every five seconds! 

Cursing in an ancient tongue, Ardyn shut the thing off. He resisted the urge to throw it across the wilderness and instead shambled to his feet. This was a matter for Prompto to deal with, no question. 

He stomped over to the small clearing where Prompto was meant to be hiding. 

As expected, Prompto had one hand furiously pumping between his legs. Cock out. Thick and surprisingly hefty, long enough that no one could say anything disparaging. (Good for him, Ardyn silently noted.) His eyes were closed in ecstasy. In the other hand Prompto held one of Ardyn’s boots, running his thumb along the laces. His nose was buried as far deep inside that boot as it would go. He looked lost to pleasure, lips wet from drool, kissing wherever his mouth could reach. 

Again. As expected. Ardyn registered the sight but didn’t spare it so much as a blink. He just wanted Prompto to fix this contraption! 

“Sorry to interrupt,” he began, startling Prompto so bad the boy literally doubled over at the waist. “But when you have a moment, can you assist me with this device once more? I believe it’s irreparably broken, damn it all.” 

Saying nothing else, Ardyn sighed and left Prompto to finish up. He wasn’t going to turn on his phone again until Prompto was ready. So now he just had to wait. 

Ardyn liked to think he was patient. He complimented himself with that thought. But in reality, he knew he was nothing of the sort. 

Well. Everyone had their vices.

_______________________________________________

Prompto laid there in the grass for a long time after that. His dick was still out, pressed against his stomach (much smaller now thanks to being scared out of his mind). His face made a home for itself against the ground. Ardyn’s boot was pressed to his chest, like a hidden treasure.

Too late.

Maybe Prompto could lay here forever. Become part of the scenery. Melt away into nothing but dirt and dust. Or maybe he could just die of an aneurysm or something. One conveniently timed aneurysm. It happened all the time, didn’t it? Why not now? Help a guy out for once, brain!

But it didn’t happen. No matter how many times Prompto wished for death, it didn’t come. 

Ardyn had caught him in the act. Seen everything there was to see. Prompto jerking it as fast as he could with his face in that boot—fuck, it finally happened. Somebody knew. No questions, no silent understanding. Now Ardyn had verifiable evidence that Prompto was a loser and a pervert. That he used his boots for something dirty….all the time. 

A single tear fell down Prompto’s cheek. What was Ardyn going to do to him? Was he going to hold it over his head like a big joke? That would honestly be the kindest option! Everything else ended in irreparable pain of some kind. Ardyn, keeping a close eye on his boots and refusing to let Prompto come anywhere near him (that whole thing was probably done either way, which felt like a gunshot to the chest). Ardyn, calling him a freak and rejecting whatever friendship they were starting to have.

Ardyn, telling the others as soon as he saw them. That was basically a given. It was too funny not to, right? Everyone was out doing errands for now, but when they came back in a few hours…

Prompto sat up and wiped his eyes. He had to accept the harsh reality that his life might be over but he still had to live it. Dead man walking. Almost literally. 

One thing bothered him though: Why hadn’t Ardyn looked surprised when he saw him? He just looked pissed. Probably at the phone or whatever. And he’d known exactly where to find him—as if he’d known for a while what Prompto was up to, what he could expect when he walked over. 

What the hell was that about? What kind of game was Ardyn playing?

And what—for gods’ sake _what_ —did he want from Prompto? 

He cleaned up fast. Took ten whole minutes washing his hands. He was nervous, scared. He’d never prepared himself for the possibility of having to face someone after they knew his secret. So he didn’t even know the first thing about how to act.

When he finally emerged from the bushes, he found Ardyn grumbling irritably under his breath. Eyeing his phone (which was on the ground) like it had committed some unspeakable crime. 

Prompto felt so small in that moment. Like a little kid. How he used to be—fat, ungainly, some quiet weirdo. It hurt to be taken back there.

Unless maybe…maybe he’d never really stopped being that kid. The lonely one with the eating disorder and the foot fetish. Maybe he’d never actually grow out of that kid. No matter how hard he tried. 

Sniffing loudly—as much to stop the tears as to let Ardyn know he was ready for the pain—he dropped the boots behind him. He gestured towards the phone on the ground when Ardyn turned to face him. Saying nothing.

“There you are,” Ardyn rumbled. He placed the phone in Prompto’s outstretched hand. “I think this might be a hopeless case. It’s not heeding any of my commands.” He continued muttering something difficult to make out. 

Still quiet—that kid was used to doing favors for the other kids in his class without a word, so this was familiar territory—Prompto turned the phone on and went into settings. He saw the problem right away. Fixed it with a few touches. 

“There.” He handed it back to Ardyn, staring at the ground. “I disabled your notifications, reset them. If you want them on again just let me know. I’ll take care of it.” 

For a second Ardyn was speechless. He looked from the phone to Prompto’s face several times. “…Are you certain it’s stopped?” 

Prompto nodded, pursing his lips. “Yep. Definitely. You just had the alarm on endless repeat in the settings.” 

“Endless repeat…” Ardyn gazed wistfully at his cell phone. His anger dissipated, sliding off of him in waves. Eventually a small smile appeared on his lips. 

When he looked at Prompto again, his golden eyes were sparkling with mirth. “Sounds familiar,” he said, not bothering to explain. 

Prompto waited for him to say something about what he’d just seen. He didn’t sit down or try to get comfortable. He was a man on death row. Waiting to hear when his sentence would be carried out. 

Luckily Ardyn cut to the chase. “My apologies for interrupting you,” Ardyn gestured to the thicket gratuitously. “I’ll admit my patience was at an end, so I acted out of temper.” He grinned sheepishly. “Forgive me.” 

That grin twisted Prompto’s stomach into knots. He automatically read it as derogatory. A dig at Prompto’s fetish, at everything. He’d been expecting some kind of knowing smile. A chuckle or an outright laugh. That grin on Ardyn’s face was….close. 

“Umm…” Prompto’s tongue clicked as it rolled uselessly in his dry mouth. “Yeah…about that…” 

He felt like a bug under a microscope. Every part of him on display. Ardyn had seen his dick for gods’ sake—seen it hard from sniffing shoes. What else was there to see? 

“So yeah, I mean…” Prompto’s face was beet red. “…sorry.” 

“Hmm?” Ardyn sat cross-legged in front of him. Comfortable and…yeah, barefoot.

Prompto focused on the patterns of the leaves on the ground. The safest option. “Sorry for…all that. Everything you saw. Umm…I won’t do it again, I promise, so…” 

He grit his teeth. This was the part where he begged Ardyn not to ruin his life.

“So please don’t…tell the guys about it? And like you know, don’t beat the shit out of me or anything.” He laughed nervously. Not kidding at all. “I’ll uh…I can…do stuff for you in return, if you want…” 

Ardyn tilted his head to the side. Curious. “Oh? Like what?” 

“Umm, I can…” Damn. Prompto was a worthless piece of crap at the end of the day so he didn’t really have much to offer. “I can pay you, I think? I don’t have a lot of gil but I can try to get some…” 

He glanced at Ardyn and found the man staring at him with a face full of scrutiny. As if he were trying to decide if Prompto was serious or not. 

This wasn’t working. “Or I can…do other stuff for you.” Prompto’s face got even redder. He thought he was going to explode. He shrugged, trying to act cool. “You name it, I guess. Whatever you want.” 

After a moment of the worst silence Prompto could ever remember experiencing, Ardyn shook his head. He held up a hand in a halting gesture. “Ah, no. That’s…I think we’ve come to a misunderstanding. I don’t expect anything from you, Prompto. And I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you wish. Your secret is entirely safe with me.” 

The older man shrugged. Indifferent. “It’s not my secret to tell, after all.” He touched a hand to his forehead and chuckled, sounding perplexed. “I thought you meant…heh, I thought you were offering a way for me to join you in these fun little extracurricular activities you seem to enjoy so much. Honestly, you had me intrigued."

The smile Ardyn gave Prompto then was a genuinely amused one. But the punchline was clear: It was this whole situation. How silly and out of hand it had gotten. The aura radiating off Ardyn was not cruel or pissed off. It was just honest. Open, in a way that drew Prompto in. Like a hand beckoning him to a soft bed at the end of a long road. 

Ardyn didn’t look like he cared about Prompto’s foot fetish. At least, not in the way Prompto expected. Apparently there was an entirely different way to care about it that Prompto wouldn’t have considered in a million years. 

A sudden, impossibly deep yearning spread through him. His jaw dropped and he wavered where he stood. Unsteady on his feet. 

“But that’s neither here nor there,” Ardyn continued. Now he was literally waving Prompto over. Indicating a spot on the ground next to him. “Come, have a seat before you fall down. You just turned deathly pale.” 

Prompto fell into a heap next to the man. His arms were loose, difficult to control. The pain, sadness, and gripping fear from a few moments ago was starting to leave him. In their wake was nothing but imprecise desire. Prompto thought he might be hungry or tired. Or both. He wanted to eat something and lay down. He felt weak, sort of vulnerable. Kind of thirsty. 

He wanted to shake Ardyn by his lapels and make sure the man was telling the truth. 

But…he didn’t really need to. There wasn’t any kind of playfulness in Ardyn’s eyes. No indications—not even subtle ones—that he was out for betrayal. He just looked normal. The smile around his lips gave way to casual seriousness. He kept glancing at Prompto to make sure he was alright. 

Prompto was starting to feel a little dizzy. He pushed his blond bangs away from his face and tried to gather his thoughts. 

“Umm…so you said…” He squinted at Ardyn, hoping to make some sense of all this. “You said you’re not going to ay anything? To them?” (No need to clarify who they were talking about.)

“Of course not.” Ardyn readjusted his legs. “I just wanted your help with my accursed phone, darling. I didn’t want to scar you for life and humiliate you in front of your friends.” He tossed his hair back and smiled. “I hope you believe that wasn’t my intention, at least.” 

Maybe because he was so giddy, Prompto legitimately laughed at that. “Uh, yeah. Well. Sort of too late for that first one, but…” 

Ardyn hummed a short laugh and patted him on the back in sympathy. It felt like a hug from a best friend. Understanding and kind. The very last thing in the world Prompto thought he would get because of this. 

…Was his foot thing actually not that weird after all? Ardyn acted like it wasn’t a big deal. Could it be that Prompto just blew the whole thing out of proportion in his head? He did that sometimes…

Before he got there, he just needed to verify. “But, you know. As long as it stays between us then…no hard feelings, yeah?” 

“Very well.” Ardyn nodded his head in agreement. “Between us it shall stay.” 

That basically destroyed what was left of Prompto’s restraint. He laughed again, going red in the face now for an entirely different reason. Without thinking, he wrapped an arm around Ardyn’s shoulders and squeezed him awkwardly. Ardyn allowed it. Bending himself to Prompto’s movements. 

“Fucking shitballs…” Prompto threw himself back against the ground. Yup, he was gone now. Way, way too many feelings at once. All of them good. He wasn’t used to feeling this many good things at the same time. Made him think something horrible might be just around the corner. 

So he might as well enjoy this—a random ray of sunshine—while it lasted.

“We really got to get you used to the phone, dude.” Prompto felt the sun on his face and sighed. “What if I was in the bathroom or something?”

Ardyn considered that. “Well, in that case I might have knocked first.” 

“ _Might_ have?”

“Yes.” He shrugged. “Probably, anyway.”

Now they were both laughing again. They joked back and forth for a good while. When words failed them, they sat in silence but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just temporary. Before the words picked up again smoothly. 

Somehow Prompto started admitting to things he shouldn’t. Things like how he looked at foot porn on his phone. Like how he stole the other guys’ shoes sometimes too. That it was habit he just couldn’t break.

Why—fucking why, why, why—was he saying all this? Prompto thought he’d never want to talk about it with anyone. He thought the secret would die with him and then he could die happy. But now, saying all that stuff out loud…

…Actually it felt really good. The whole ‘weight off your shoulders’ thing was pretty true. Prompto did feel lighter once he said it. Like he could finally breathe. Had he been holding his breath for a while or something? Because he was literally panting by the time he was done telling Ardyn everything. 

And Ardyn listened. Nodded along and asked for clarification here and there. But never made a face. Never a mocking smirk or a crude comment. Just nodding. 

Ardyn’s final thought: “Ultimately it’s harmless, my dear, you know that.”

Nope, Prompto did not know that. “…Is it really, though? I mean…it’s their shoes and it’s such a weird thing to want…” Embarrassment threatened to crush his good mood yet again. 

“Hmm, well, yes. I think you’d better ask before you borrow your friends’ shoes again. To avoid any soreness in the future.”

Yeah, that was true. The right thing to do. Prompto knew it. 

Ardyn glanced away thoughtfully. “Besides, who knows. They might say yes.” 

“Nah, really?” Prompto shook his head in disbelief. “No way. I’ll just cut it out entirely. It’s, like, a really stupid thing to do anyway. So.”

“That’s up to you.” Ardyn eyed the darkening sky. Evening was upon them. “Just know that you can always use my boots for whatever purpose you like. As long as they remain intact when you’re finished. I still need something on my feet for this road trip, after all.” 

Prompto’s ears burned. He was equal parts embarrassed and thrilled and—and—

His cock sprang back to life in his pants. Already dialed up to eleven. Just from the thought of Ardyn knowing and being okay if—

“…Seriously?” The word came out of Prompto’s mouth like a whisper. A prayer. 

Ardyn nodded. As the sun began to set, everything turned red around them. “Yes, very. You don’t need to ask. I trust you to use them wisely.” A smile flashed across his face—okay, that might have been a facetious one. But one out of however many Ardyn had given him was not a bad deal at all. 

The red glow made Ardyn look…handsome. Breathtakingly so. Prompto found himself stuttering around a response. The shadows dancing on Ardyn’s cheekbones gave him the kind of contour most guys could only dream about. Prompto wanted to bury his fingers in Ardyn’s hair and _touch_ … His eyes inevitably wandered down to those feet.

Still bare. Prompto’s cock twitched without mercy. Throbbing. Those bridges were so wide…could Prompto even fit a whole one in his mouth? The toes too! Prompto could get maybe two or three in his face. More if he tried really, really hard.

He wanted to try. 

“And, like I mentioned before.” Ardyn tucked some blond hair behind Prompto’s ear. A quiet, intimate gesture that was impossible to mistake. “If there is a way you’d like me to get involved in these endeavors, I’m interested. It seems to me like you’ve got the matter well in hand—” He grinned at his own stupid joke. “—but if the mood strikes you, or if there’s something else you simply can’t give yourself, then.” 

He grinned as wide as the devil. Or, an angel. One of those. “You know where to find me.” 

Prompto certainly did. They were hardly ever apart after all. Not only that, Ardyn and his feet occupied around 80% of Prompto’s normal day-to-day thoughts. He’d always know where to find them. 

Even if the reality of what Ardyn was offering still hadn’t sunk in yet. 

“I’ll…keep that in mind…” Prompto stammered. There wasn’t enough blood for both his cock and his brain in times like this. Not that anything like this had ever happened before. 

“You do that.” Ardyn released his grip on the side of Prompto’s face and stood up. “I’m going to go put some gas in my car before the day’s finished. Also, someone better check on your friends. They were only going to the gas station. It’s already been some time.” 

“R-right, I’ll go too.” Prompto hurried to his feet. Trailing behind Ardyn like a puppy. Eager to please. Tripping over his own two legs. 

They didn’t mention Ardyn’s offer on the car ride over. In fact, neither of them mentioned it for days afterward. 

There was something far too big to imagine in an offer like that. Prompto needed time.

__________________________________________________________

Oh, a young man caught in the throes of amorous passion he could share with no one! How could Ardyn refuse an offer like that. Well, technically _he_ was the one offering Prompto something more than just shoes, but. Still!

He didn’t find the idea off-putting in the slightest. Back in his day (which day was that again? One of them, one of his days) there were rumors that you could make someone cum just from touching their feet. It sounded preposterous and Ardyn had never experienced it for himself. 

But what was the harm in trying? 

If there was any validity in such an idea, it must surely lie with a lad like Prompto. And even if the idea turned out to be pure poppycock, they could still have fun. Ardyn wouldn’t mind playing with Prompto’s delicate little feet, and no one had touched his own feet in several centuries. It would be a nice experience either way. No question. 

Prompto had a beautiful face and a nice cock. Not to mention, the sweet aura of a boy with _needs_. 

Why did Ardyn always fall for the needy ones? 

________________________________________________ 

It took Prompto about a week to make up his mind. He tossed and turned in his sleeping bag every night until he finally called it. Thinking and thinking. 

What if it got weird? What if it ruined their friendship? What if it was all a trick? What if it didn’t work, if Ardyn wasn’t into it and it just failed so spectacularly? 

…What if Prompto liked it so much he went crazy? What if he came just from touching Ardyn’s feet with his hands? What if he lost it so totally he got straight up addicted—ah hell, he was already addicted to the idea alone. Maybe it was too late for his sanity, his dignity or anything like that. 

Maybe he should just give in. 

Ardyn was sexy. Prompto had never stopped to doubt that. The man was Prompto’s type through and through, from his head to toe (literally). If they were talking about feet, there was no contest. But even just personality-wise…Prompto was into him. Much more so after he realized Ardyn wasn’t fazed by his foot fetish.

There couldn’t be a bigger turn on than that. 

In the end, Prompto decided to go for it. Who knew when he would get another chance for something like this? And Ardyn…? No, there’d never be anyone else like him offering this again.

He had to take a risk and jump. 

So he did.

Prompto made a counter offer to Ardyn when they made a return trip to the Veserpool. The other guys were busy: Gladiolus and Noctis were off trying again to catch that stupid Lake Liege (come on already!). Ignis had gone food shopping, something that could take literal hours. The man debated himself tirelessly over the price and relative nutritional value of all his purchases. Best to let Ignis go on his own, or else you’d be climbing the walls in five minutes. 

That left him and Ardyn alone for at least a few hours. Gathering up his courage—telling himself that he was already mostly insane anyway, so what did it really matter—Prompto made his move. 

He bounced over to Ardyn, trying and failing to act natural. Swinging himself into the chair next to Ardyn’s in the haven, almost falling over in the process. Ardyn was patching a hole in his trench coat, fabric draped over his lap. But he stopped his work to watch Prompto’s bizarre rendition of game. 

Smooth start, Prompto thought. Real fucking smooth. 

Even though, yeah. He’d never done anything like this? Sure, he wasn’t a _total_ virgin. Some girl in high school had agreed to sleep with him one night at a party. They weren’t drunk, but neither of them were very into it. Prompto couldn’t even finished and the girl was actually yawning behind her hand before they called it quits. Needless to say, she hadn’t texted him afterwards. 

Prompto wasn’t the best at sex, he realized. Besides, the whole time he was with that girl he kept sneaking glances at her feet. They didn’t really work for him. Just knowing that might have psyched him out enough to throw off what little technique he had.

This was nothing like that time. Ardyn had made an offer to give Prompto exactly what he wanted. And there he was. Just sitting there. Calm as a coeurl in a thunderstorm. Waiting for Prompto to take him up on it. 

“So uh….remember what you said to me that time? About how I could always come find you if…you know?” 

Ardyn put down his needle and thread. Laid his trench coat over the back of his chair. “Oh, yes.” His golden eyes twinkled in the mid-day sun. 

Prompto swallowed hard. “Well, um…I thought about it and…I’m down for it, if you are.” 

Ardyn shifted his weight in the fold up chair. “Ah. Well. Consider me intrigued, yet again. Have you given any thought to what it is you want exactly?”

Folding and refolding his sweaty hands, Prompto nodded. Of course he fucking had. He’d barely been able to think about anything else. He hadn’t gotten a chance to masturbate since he was interrupted by Ardyn the last time—so it had already been over a week for him. Way longer than he was used to. 

He was hurting bad. 

“Uh yeah. I thought…” Prompto scooted up to the edge of his chair. His eyes kept cutting back to Ardyn’s boots. He was trying to maintain eye contact, to get a solid read of everything happening on Ardyn’s face, but. He knew what those boots tasted like, what was waiting for him inside. He couldn’t get the image out of his head. He was already hard, just from that image. If he could palm himself surreptitiously then maybe it would take the edge off a little bit…

Prompto snuck a hand between his legs. His teeth clacked together as he withstood a shiver from that. Ardyn was looking at him—could see what held Prompto’s attention. 

He knew. They both knew. This was as real as it got. 

“I thought…” Prompto forced his hand into a balled up fist at his side. Fighting the overwhelming urge to touch himself. “Why don’t I give you a massage? You know, a…foot massage. And then we can take it from there. See how it goes.” 

Ardyn broke into a warm smile. Warm, and a little dangerous. Tinged with hunger in a way that set Prompto’s guts to a slow boil. He dragged the backs of his fingers down Prompto’s cheek. All slow affection and reassurance. Silent promises that Ardyn wouldn’t turn back, wouldn’t change his mind once they started.

He was into this. This guy with the body that made Prompto lose all control of himself—a guy who’d appeared out of literally nowhere—was into it. Fuck _yes_.

“Hmm, yes. That sounds lovely, darling.” Ardyn stretched his feet out in front of him. “Do you want to get started now or is there something you need before—” 

“No, now is good.” 

Saying nothing else, Prompto flung himself to the ground and latched onto Ardyn’s feet. He descended onto those two feet like a starving bird on a pile of bread crumbs. He wanted to take his time—he should do this slowly, reverently, unveiling Ardyn’s feet like holy relics or some kind of mystic gift—but he just couldn’t. Not when he was _so close_ to seeing those bare feet. Touching and…smelling…

“I can’t guarantee their cleanliness,” Ardyn admitted. Sighing in relief as Prompto pulled off his boots one after the other, leaving him in nothing but socks. “It’s been more than a day since we stopped for a bath.”

Prompto ran his thumbs down the arch of Ardyn’s left foot. Outlining it over the sock. He felt the solid weight of it in his hands and his eyes fluttered closed for a moment. 

“Yeah, that’s…not gonna be a problem,” Prompto admitted.

Indeed. He could already smell Ardyn’s feet from there and it wasn’t doing anything to turn him off. Actually it was making him feel lightheaded. Dizzy with want. Vibrating from somewhere inside with the need to taste.

Decisions were getting harder and harder to make. 

Prompto brought Ardyn’s foot to his face. He inhaled deeply, moaning as he let out his breath. He buried his nose into the sock’s fabric and whimpered. 

“So fucking good…” he cried in a voice that was already teary. 

Ardyn chuckled above him. His voice sounded darker than normal. When Prompto glanced up, he saw nothing but approval on Ardyn’s smiling face. Combined with interest. Curiosity. As if Ardyn was fascinated with what might come next. 

Prompto licked his lips, pretending it was an accident when his tongue flicked the side of Ardyn’s sock. Just a tiny touch, that’s all. But it radiated through Prompto’s whole body like an electric shock. 

He wanted more. 

He wanted to take Ardyn’s sock in his teeth and roll it off like that. The thought did cross his mind. But…he wasn’t really skilled enough to pull off something of that caliber yet. He was barely managing to keep his hands still. To stop himself from humping Ardyn’s leg right then and there and getting himself to completion before anything had officially happened. 

Prompto was _so_ painfully horny. His dick needed to be touched soon or else he might die of something like blue balls—lack of oxygen, something—

“Keep going, my dear,” Ardyn encouraged. Holding his foot up like a princess ready for a slipper.

Prompto laughed deliriously. He unrolled Ardyn’s sock in a daze, then the other right after it. That sock he pressed to his face one last time. Just a quick, deep sniff. Enough to make him feel like he was floating. 

“Fuck, Ardyn…” 

“I know, I know.” Ardyn rested his heel in Prompto’s hand. As smug as royalty in that moment. “You’ve never indulged yourself like this before, have you?” 

Thankful that Ardyn could see the truth without him needing to say it, Prompto shook his head no. “Nope, never.” 

“Oh, my poor Prompto.” Ardyn flexed his toes under a watchful gaze. “Well then. Take all the time you need.” 

Now Prompto was giggling like a maniac. If only Ardyn knew! The problem was, this wouldn’t take any time at all! 

But Ardyn would see soon enough. No hiding anything now.

Prompto didn’t have any actual experience giving massages, although he had watched hours and hours of massage videos by way of pornography. So he had some rough idea what to do. Besides, with Ardyn’s foot in his hand, Prompto could be happy just touching random places. Although a big part of him did want to make this pleasurable for Ardyn too. 

He started at the heel, drawing a line with his thumbs from bottom to top. The heel to the balls of the foot. Lightly at first, very gentle. Then a little harder on a second pass.

“Mmm, that’s nice…” Ardyn closed his eyes. Content. Rumbling in his throat. His muscles relaxed underneath Prompto’s fingers. 

Prompto panted hard through his mouth. He brought his lips within a hair’s breadth of Ardyn’s toes, enough for the older man to feel the warmth of his breath. But no closer. Not until he got permission. 

He pressed hard in the arches of the foot, angling circles into the sides and deep into the pressure point in the center. Ardyn grunted in pleasure and kept murmuring bits of praise. 

“Ah yes. That’s it, dear. Very skilled, aren’t you? I think you might be a natural.” 

“Guuh…” Prompto wished he had some kind of intelligent response, but his brain was currently turning into mush. Useless, gloppy mush.

He was becoming obsessed with the tiny hairs on the tops of Ardyn’s toes. The way they quivered under Prompto’s breath. Tiny red hairs—so delicate in contrast to the girth of Ardyn’s manly feet. Prompto wished he could braid them together. Make those little hairs feel as beautiful as they looked.

…Just as he feared, he was losing his whole damn mind. 

Prompto rubbed circles into the pads of Ardyn’s toes. One by one, then into the crevices in between. He marveled at how long Ardyn’s middle toe was, longer than the big toe even. Unusual. Gorgeous. He lowered his face to suck that toe in his mouth. 

Anyone in his position would have done it. Automatic response. 

Stopping himself at the last second, Prompto remembered to ask for permission. “C-can I…? Please? Just a little bit…?” 

Ardyn peeked one eye open and saw what Prompto was asking for. “Yes, darling. You can have more than a little bit. As much as you like, you thirsty boy.” 

Tears springing behind his eyes, Prompto stuck that toe in his mouth with a high-pitched whine. He slobbered and sucked that digit like it was a cock—flicking his tongue against the tip to create more sensation for Ardyn. 

It tasted fantastic. Skin and sweat and musk—dirt, the earth. The bits of nature Prompto knew nothing about…all of it. Right there between this man’s toes. 

Prompto lost himself. 

He gave into everything and stuffed three more toes into his mouth. Drooling all over himself in the process, moaning with abandon around the girth. It was sloppy and gross, a blow job given at awkward angles. A tongue twitching across the planes of Ardyn’s soles like a blind snake. Nothing but taste and touch. 

“Easy, my boy, easy,” Ardyn cooed. He buried a hand in Prompto’s sandy hair to steady him. “Don’t choke yourself.” 

Tears streamed down Prompto’s face, adding to the wetness on his chin. He was probably going to choke, yeah, and he didn’t care. He wanted to feel those toes in his throat, as far deep inside him as he could…

“Puh-ees…puh-ees….” Prompto repeated, over and over. Some facsimile of the word ‘please,’ garbled because his mouth was occupied. 

“You’re alright,” Ardyn murmured. “You can have everything. Hmm, how does that sound? Whatever you need. Take it. Go ahead, darling.” 

Practically sobbing, Prompto pressed the heel of his hand to his crotch. He thrust against himself, shaking his hips to get some kind of friction. Fireworks exploded behind his eyes and he felt the beginnings of a mind-shattering orgasm build in his abdomen. His heart, his balls. His entire body was tingling with the need to cum. 

“Ah, ah.” 

Something pushed Prompto’s hand out of the way. He bawled like a child when he was denied his orgasm, but then he felt something else. 

Ardyn pressed his untended foot to Prompto’s groin. Squeezing the aching hardness there with his toes. Rubbing his sole over the growing wet patch in those pants, gentle enough to keep Prompto on the edge.

Eyes rolling back in his head, Prompto shoved Ardyn’s foot harder into his crotch. He rutted against it like an animal.

“There you go. That’s it, my dear.” It seemed this was what Ardyn wanted. 

With Prompto’s release only seconds away, Ardyn nudged the younger man’s cock with his big toe. He traced the outline of it expertly. Teasing the tip in a few squeezes. 

Screaming in pleasure—a pleasure so intense it honestly scared the fuck out of him—Prompto doubled over and came in his pants. He might have been caught in a seizure, he couldn’t be sure. Everything was mixed up colors and tastes and…no sounds. Just loud, dull screaming echoing in his ears. His own screams. 

Ardyn’s foot fell from Prompto’s mouth like dog’s chew toy. Sure enough, Prompto’s whole body dropped right behind it. Limp, boneless. 

Ardyn caught him by the shoulders. Propped him up into a sitting position, resting the young man’s head on his thigh. He wiped away as much of the tears and spit as he could. Where was that handkerchief Ardyn meant to carry around…? He couldn’t find it. Really, he was always losing his things. 

It was several minutes before Prompto came to. He blinked stupidly, registering the fact that Ardyn was petting him. Smoothing his hair, keeping him balanced between his legs. 

“Nnnnnn…uh…” Prompto managed, passing a hand over his mouth because it felt ridiculously wet. 

Shit. He was a mess. His legs were numb, his vision unfocused. There was so much cum on him that Prompto swore he could feel it in his socks. Dripping down his jeans. 

“Hush. Take it easy now. I’ve got you.” Ardyn brushed away tears that continued to fall. 

Where were these tears coming from? Prompto had no idea there were this many inside him.

Somehow…he felt safe. He had just ruined himself. Extremely loudly and in front of someone. But that didn’t feel wrong in that moment. With Ardyn’s hands on his face. 

It felt wonderful. 

He grinned up at Ardyn like an idiot. Caught somewhere between giggles and sobs. He wanted to sleep now, but he didn’t want to close his eyes and take them away from Ardyn’s face. Because they weren’t done…?

Oh, wait. That’s right. Prompto needed to…

He glanced between Ardyn’s legs and found that the man was actually not noticeably harder than normal. Maybe a little? But it didn’t seem urgent and Ardyn wasn’t in any rush. 

Yeah, Prompto guessed that should have hurt his feelings or something. But foot action probably didn’t mean the same thing to Ardyn as it did to him. And honestly, he just felt relieved. There was no way Prompto could be good at giving a real blowjob right now (his first). He’d only embarrass himself further. 

Maybe someday Ardyn could teach him. For real. Prompto would like that. With Ardyn there to give him tips and soft encouragement, it wouldn’t be so horrible being a first timer. Prompto might actually be able to accomplish something in the end. 

He grabbed Ardyn’s hand and kissed the palm. A warm feeling floated in his chest. He wanted more kisses. Yeah. More that. 

“Thanks, man,” Prompto murmured, very close to passing out. “That was great.” 

“You’re welcome,” Ardyn answered. His thumb teased Prompto’s lips. “I can let you have that any time you want. If you like.” 

Yeah. Yes. Uh-huh. Definitely. They were doing this again. Yes, yes yes yes…

Such a small thing, Ardyn reasoned. How could he deny him? Better yet, why? That was certainly not the worst massage Ardyn had ever gotten. Not the best, but not the worst. With a little practice, Prompto had the potential to be outstanding. Ardyn would love to test that. 

And ah, the scenery around the Vesperpool was just as delightful again today. Even more so. Ardyn would do well to take his own advice. 

Stop and smell the roses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is something *ridiculously* satisfying about giving Prompto what he wants. 
> 
> Next up is Ignis...heh, I've had this idea in my head for a while. Pretty jazzed about it ^__^
> 
> Much love to y'all!! <3 <3


	3. Looks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis wishes Ardyn would stop giving him looks. Well, actually...he wishes a lot of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me a while to write and it's a monster because...see, I wanted to write this for a while, and I told myself that if I was going to write I was going to *really* write it. You know? So here we are. 
> 
> Sorry folks lol. It's long. But then again...y'all know me ;)
> 
> Mind the tags. Or don't, I guess, if you don't want spoilers!

**Chapter Three: Looks**

Lately Ardyn was finding himself surprisingly—and wonderfully—busy. His evenings, any time before or after dinner, were occupied with Gladiolus. The young man had taken to approaching Ardyn with a cold bottle of beer and a heart full of burning questions. Almost every night of the week. The beer was Gladiolus’s entry into a conversation with Ardyn. He asked questions about sexual orientation, about love and sex. The longer this habit went on, the bolder the questions became.

“Like, say for example, a guy comes onto you and you turn him down. Then a few days later you change your mind and want to talk to him again. Even, like…” Gladiolus rubbed the back of his neck. “…sleep with him, or whatever. Is that totally bad form when it comes to screwing around with guys? Changing your mind all the damn time?” 

Ardyn polished off his beer and shrugged. “Not necessarily. Many men would see that as a stroke of good luck. It’s like I’m always telling you: Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” 

Gladiolus nodded. He was so focused on the conversation he hadn’t even touched his beer. Liquid sloshed around the bottle as he gestured wildly, elaborating. “Right okay. So then you meet up with him and change your mind again. Like you just can’t go through with it…” His eyes cut away, embarrassed. “…Are you just some asshole that can’t make up his mind?”

Gazing into the night sky, Ardyn sighed. How elaborate these made-up scenarios were getting! But Ardyn didn’t mind. He liked a good conversational challenge. And he appreciated where Gladiolus was coming from; this had all been bouncing around that young man’s head for some time now. 

“Well, as always, the important thing is that you stay communicative, darling.” Ardyn folded his hands in his lap and smiled. A therapist in a chair—a thousand year old anomaly, riddled with Scourge and daemonic essence. In a fold-up chair, in the middle of the woods. Giving heartfelt, but hypothetical, relationship advice. “Regardless of what came before, you must always be honest with your partner about how you’re feeling. Don’t feel pressured to do anything you’re not comfortable with, and likewise don’t shy away from experiences because you’re afraid of failure.” 

Ardyn touched a finger to his chin. “It’s a fine line to walk, yes. But you’re more than capable of handling it.” 

Gladiolus’s grip tightened on the beer bottle. “I don’t know…”

Ardyn put his hand on Gladiolus’s knee. “Relax. There’s no need to doubt yourself before you’ve even started.” He took the beer from Gladiolus’s hand and helped himself to a sip, since it was clear that Gladiolus wasn’t partaking. “You can go at your own pace.”

A pair of rapt amber eyes fixated on Ardyn’s throat as he swallowed. Those eyes had been following Ardyn around more and more recently. Ardyn would be a fool not to notice. 

Well. Any time Gladiolus decided he wanted to do more than stare, he was quite welcome. But that ball was entirely in Gladiolus’s court. 

As things were, Ardyn found his spare moments to be filled with Prompto. Particularly during the afternoon times. Prompto was a tenacious young man and Ardyn indulged him whenever he had a request—which was constant. Prompto sidled up to him every time they were alone, whenever the others went on errands or hunts without them. He wouldn’t even say anything anymore; he’d just drop to his knees and start pawing at Ardyn’s boots. 

His foot massages were getting rather good. Ardyn never had to worry about sore feet at the end of a long quest. Prompto took thorough (almost _royal_ , quite frankly) care of Ardyn’s feet. With his hands and his wet, hungry mouth that wanted to touch everything. 

Prompto also persuaded Ardyn to teach him how to give satisfying head.

“Can you show me?” he asked one day, cupping Ardyn’s resting manhood over his pants. “So I can, you know. Do it right?” 

The look in Prompto’s soft, violet eyes was to die for. Nervous, but so, so hopeful. Eager and intent. Bashfulness thrust aside by curiosity. Adorable. Impossible to say no to! 

Ardyn undid his belt, grinning. “Why, of course I can show you, my dear. It’d be my pleasure.” 

Literally. Especially since it was clear that Prompto was orally gifted. A mouth like that! Shame it had been wasted for so long. 

“Oh, Prompto, my good man…” Ardyn leaned back in his chair, one hand in Prompto’s blonde locks, guiding him. “You’re going to be a natural at this too, aren’t you?” 

At that, Prompto positively glowed. Beaming up at Ardyn with his thick cock in his mouth. He offered a heartfelt thumbs up and got back to work. Content, and fairly more confident. 

So. Days of monotony and time-worsened drudgery were behind him, Ardyn wagered. At least for now! He’d thought he was embarking on a fun little diversion with these four young men. That’s why he initially stayed. But he hadn’t known exactly how fun it would be! 

These days, Ardyn walked around with a sense of lightness he hadn’t enjoyed in years. Thoughts of revenge and darkness couldn’t be further from his mind. 

He was in the weeds with these boys. Increasingly. 

And what a fascinating place to be. 

________________________________________________________________

The group’s morning routines were fairly sacred. As hard as that might have been to believe. Ignis woke first and arranged some breakfast. Followed by Gladiolus going for his morning jog. Then Prompto, who dawdled about the campsite, cleaning their equipment and organizing their backpacks. Finally Noctis was dragged from slumber, blearily stumbling into the daylight. 

Like clockwork. Ardyn sat on the sidelines, sipping instant coffee and observing. Really, he could set a watch by these boys. 

By the time Noctis awoke, Ignis was already gone. Departed for his morning ablutions. Or, morning ritual. Or whatever it was he did after breakfast was served. Almost every day without fail, they could expect Ignis to leave camp and embark on his own somewhere into the forest. He explained that he was going to the nearest stream for a quick wash. If they were near a clearing, he always went far out. Under cover of trees and brush, never within visible range of the camp. 

He would be gone for at least a half hour. 

The explanation checked out. Ignis was indeed a man who liked to keep himself clean. His generally spick and span appearance masked the ruggedness of their journey. Looking at Ignis, you would never assume that he’d spent the night in a tent. First of all, he was impeccably dressed down to the last button. Dress shirt, pants, and suit jacket all finely pressed, no wrinkles. Smudges of dirt and grass stains were quickly cleansed, probably in these trips to the stream. Ignis never smelled. Never a whiff of unpleasant body odor or lingering muck from their various exploits in the caves. Ignis must be cleaning himself regularly. 

He was also a man who did not like being caught off guard. He did not like being exposed. Every time they needed to undress in front of each other, Ignis always tutted and went off by himself to do it. No one had ever seen him in any state of undress—never shirtless, never walking around in just boxers like the others often did when their pants were wet from the rain or a swamp. Ignis hardly even took his gloves off. If he wanted to stay clean and didn’t want to be seen, then it made sense he’d need a set time and place to do it. So the logic was there. 

No one followed him on his morning treks to make sure he was alright (he could certainly take care of himself in battle, that was undoubtedly true) or that he was telling the truth. They all bought that he was just taking a bath. 

Besides, believing excuses on face value was part of this group’s aesthetic. It was their way with each other. They never prodded too deep or intruded more than they absolutely had to. Privacy above all else was their guiding religion. None of them called Ignis out on where he was going—even when they were nowhere near water of any kind. They just gave him his space and waited for him to return before heading out for the day (Ignis was their driver, after all, as well as their general handler. The group would have been quite lost without him). 

Ardyn gave up being curious about the whole thing. He assumed Ignis had his reasons for secrecy. Remarkably, Ignis always returned from these excursions looking refreshed. Calm, collected. Renewed and ready for whatever they might face next. Considering how much this group relied on Ignis (his knowledge of the world around them, his skills, his cool-headed demeanor in the face of challenges), Ardyn felt that whatever Ignis was doing, it must be necessary. For all their sakes. 

He admired the man very much. Truth be told, Ardyn wished he had met someone like Ignis back in his own youth. Those uncertain, tumultuous days. Ignis gave marvelous advice. He was level-headed and rational. It might have been fortunate to have an advisor like that when Ardyn’s life turned complicated. When his decisions were not so clear. Perhaps things would have been easier down the road if only he’d had someone like Ignis at his side. 

But that was neither here nor there. Ignis was still young. Exceedingly so. He would grow into a much more mature version of himself someday—and that was something Ardyn could not wait to see. There was no sense wishing for circumstances to be different when the present and future offered such intriguing possibilities. 

…What would happen to that body as Ignis aged? Ardyn couldn’t help but wonder. Ignis was a breathtakingly attractive man. Thoroughly intense. From his hazel-eyed stare to his uncompromisingly straight posture. He was slim figured and lithe, well-muscled like a gymnast but unassumingly beautiful like a late-blooming swan. Ignis must have gone through an awkward youth, Ardyn suspected, but he came out the other side looking all the more handsome for it. 

Ardyn would love to see the finished product some day. In the meantime, he’d bide his time and be grateful for Ignis’s presence. Ignis kept the other three alive, certainly, and he was a joy to watch when he got to work on a project. Be that combat or a new recipe. 

Ardyn didn’t wonder all that much about Ignis’s personal affairs. He could respect boundaries as well as the rest of them! And after all, what would a twenty-something-year-old man really be doing out there in the middle of nowhere? Fashioning a seafaring vessel out of driftwood? Hardly. Ignis was probably occupied the way a young man ought to be. Getting acquainted with himself. With his own…precious assets.

As he should.

Seriously, what else could it be? It was all quite normal (even if the others wanted to dance around the subject as long as they possibly could). Ardyn shrugged and put the whole thing out of his mind. 

Of course, nothing was ever meant to stay hidden forever. Especially not with this group. Not when they were all meant to be out there sacrificing their lives for the sake of the world. Hearth and home and all that. Unexpected problems came up. Things they weren’t ready for. 

It happened one morning when Noctis got a phone call. He only answered if he knew the caller—or at least, now he did, after they all repeatedly impressed upon him the importance of ignoring unknown numbers (one too many questionable payments to some ‘Cartanican prince,’)—and he knew perhaps a handful of people at most. So Ardyn and Gladiolus waited while Noctis took the call. Prompto was cleaning up breakfast plates. Ignis had already taken his leave, some ten minutes ago. 

“I hear you, what is it?” Noctis’s face was screwed up in a scowl. (More or less his usual phone-answering face.)

Then that scowl deepened. “What? No… Are you okay? Is Cid okay?” 

Hearing the seriousness of the call, they all stopped and listened in.

“Well take him to Dave at least, at the Hunter’s HQ. They should have some med supplies there…” Noctis fiddled with the bottom of his shirt. An unconscious nervous tic. “…I know, but…I know. But you need to, okay?” 

Gladiolus was ready to spring into action. He was fully dressed, already packing up the camp. Prompto followed suit. 

“Yeah. Yeah of course. We can be there in an hour. Yeah. Yes. No problem. Just stay safe Cindy, okay?” 

Noctis hung up and stared at them with a strained look on his face. “That was Cindy,” he explained (quite needlessly, since they’d all heard him). “Apparently Hammerhead got attacked by fiends last night. Guess the lights weren’t enough to keep them away.” 

He went on to say that Cid had been part of the tussle, that he was scratched and bitten in some places. But ‘perfectly fine’ by the old man’s standards. Cindy was trying to convince him to get medical attention and Cid was being stubborn. Naturally. 

“We better head over there quick,” Prompto immediately volunteered. “Make sure Cid’s okay. And take care of their fiend problem, yeah?” 

“Yup.” Gladiolus answered for everyone. “No time to waste.” 

“Right. We just need to get Ignis…” Noctis was looking at the ground when he said it. He licked his lips nervously and avoided eye contact with everyone around him. 

There was an uncomfortable shift in the atmosphere when Noctis made that point. Prompto made a soft sort of “uh….” sound, uncertain, glancing in the direction Ignis had left (and of course, seeing nothing). Even Gladiolus hung his head, shifting his weight from foot to foot. No one wanted to be the one to actually go find Ignis. That would have been a breach of everything they held sacred. If Ignis really was taking a bath then there was a good chance they’d see him naked—something none of them were really ready to handle. Not to mention, if Ignis was pissed enough he might very well stab them in the throat purely based on instinct. Ignis’s fight or flight mechanism worked in…mysterious ways. 

Everyone’s natural impulse was to just wait until Ignis got back. The fact that they were all standing around doing nothing showed as much. But, Cindy was in trouble. This was an actual emergency! And Ignis had only left fifteen minutes ago—he was at least another fifteen minutes out. So waiting wasn’t an option. 

Saying nothing, Gladiolus hoisted their tent, chairs, and grill onto his back all at once. “I’ll go pack the car,” he announced. 

A casual but direct way of saying: Not it. 

Prompto caught the hint and immediately snatched the car keys out of Noctis’s pocket. “Yup, I’ll go start the car!” He waved merrily at Noctis and Ardyn before making a dash to the Regalia. 

Noctis clicked his teeth irritably. “Cowards…” he muttered. Ruffling his hair in aggravation, Noctis stared at the path Ignis had taken into…gods only knew where. It might take a while just to find him. The very picture of conflicted, Noctis sighed and shot a look towards Ardyn . 

A last ditch plea. Even though they both knew who _should_ be the one going. The man who had known Ignis his whole life, not the recently discovered stranger who was tagging along for the hell of it. 

But Ardyn didn’t particularly care about any of that. He’d more or less known he would be the one to solve this problem as soon as it came up. He just wanted to see the boys squirm a little. Try to figure it out on their own. And it had been entertaining. A rift in their carefully built series of rituals. Tension in the air. Ardyn was amused by it all, but he didn’t actually want to see their tenuous house of cards come crashing down. He wanted to preserve it as long as he could. 

For fun. Yes. And…well, because it made for a nicer traveling experience if they were all copacetic. 

“I’ll go,” Ardyn offered, already turning down the path. “Won’t be a minute.” 

“A-are you sure?” Noctis scrambled after him at first. Perhaps a show of pride, or more because he was genuinely worried Ardyn didn’t know what he was getting himself into. “I mean, I can…” 

He didn’t actually finish that sentence. Naturally. Well, at least Noctis thought to try.

Ardyn waved him away. “Yes, yes. Go help the others, won’t you.” 

Once he left the campsite, Ardyn followed the sound of running water until he came to a stream. Already a decent walk. But, knowing what he knew about Ignis’s habits, Ardyn thought to follow the bank until he came to a spot densely covered by trees. So covered in fact that he needed to swat away branches just to make his way through. 

He could see Ignis's distinct outline through the leaves as he approached. He called out to the man so as not to startle him into thinking he was being attacked. 

“Ignis, my fine fellow—”

When all the barriers fell away and he saw Ignis, Ardyn paused for just a moment. Mostly because he was impressed with himself that he’d actually managed to find the man. It had been a trek. Yes, he registered what Ignis was wearing, but it didn’t strike him as odd on first glance. 

In fact, he thought Ignis looked very nice. Except…well, the pink and purple ensemble was objectively appealing, just…Ignis could do better. Something darker. Red or blue or dark green. Even violet. 

Pastel pink and lavender? Not the best.

Really, if Ignis was going to wear a set of women’s lingerie, he might as well find something that suited him best. Sheer lacy bras and panties were meant to be worn with compliment to the wearer. The excess flap of lace over the hem of Ignis’s panties was made to cover any blemishes around the thighs. It did nothing to compliment the hard line of Ignis’s hips. And the bra? Far too small for someone of Ignis’s build. He had manly pectoral muscles from all his training. That tiny bra looked like it was made for an A cup! Ignis was closer to a C, Ardyn could tell just from a glance. The thin fabric of the bra Ignis was wearing covered him just around the nipples. His pectorals spilled out around the sides and top. A poor fit. 

But, Ardyn figured, Ignis must have his reasons for choosing that particular ensemble. Even if the color and size were both wrong. 

“We’ve been summoned to Hammerhead,” Ardyn explained succinctly. He glanced around and saw Ignis’s regular clothes draped over a rock. As well as a towel nearby. It seemed the man had taken a quick dip in the stream. He’d probably only just started getting dressed—the first layer of which was that cute little ensemble. 

“It seems Cindy found herself in a spot of trouble last night with some fiends, nothing too serious, but something to look into. Your friends are already packing the car. We’d best join them soon.” 

Ignis just stared at him. Frozen. Rooted to the spot. Mouth slightly open. Not even blinking. He had one arm raised, ready to grab his dress pants. But it had stopped halfway—caught by Ardyn—and now hung in suspended animation. 

Ardyn frowned. It wasn’t like Ignis to hesitate. “Cid was injured,” Ardyn added, hoping to spur Ignis into action. “He needs medical attention, I believe.” 

Still Ignis stood there. A minor twitch in his eye. A tremor in his hand. Nothing more. His face was expressionless. For a second Ardyn thought the man might have been petrified, but his skin was too flushed. In fact there was a bright spot of pink flooding Ignis’s face as the seconds ticked by. 

At a loss, Ardyn put his hands on his hips. “Well, chop chop. I think we ought to hurry, no?” 

Blinking rapidly, Ignis gurgled in his throat. His hand finally landed on his pants. “I…I’ll…be along….” he managed.

His whole body was now a fine shade of red. See, that’s the color panties Ignis should be wearing, Ardyn thought to himself. Nodding, he turned his back and made to leave. He didn’t intend to stand there while Ignis dressed. He would give the man some privacy for that, at least. 

But before he could leave, he felt something dig into his shoulder. He whipped around and was met with Ignis’s angriest, most serious face. The man wasn’t wearing his glasses either, which made him even deadlier to look upon. He was practically snarling—a complete 180 from his previously stone solid state. But Ignis could turn on a dime like that. This was a well-known fact. 

Ignis grabbed Ardyn by the lapels. Still wearing nothing but a frilly bra and panties. Ardyn raised his eyebrows, not sure for a moment where this was going. He kept his posture loose, ready for anything. 

“Not. A word of this. To anyone.” Ignis spoke on a vocal fry. As intimidating as he could be. 

To be fair, Ardyn did feel a little threatened. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender—realizing instantly that Ignis was talking about the panties. Apparently he intended to keep this a secret….ah. 

Right. 

“Of course, Ignis,” Ardyn said sincerely. “Not a soul. You have my word.” 

Ignis’s lips trembled for a moment. A red ring appeared underneath his eyes and Ardyn thought for a split second that Ignis might cry—

—and then he was being pushed away. With full force, to the point that Ardyn had to catch himself with a little boost of dark magic otherwise he might have fallen. Startled, he watched Ignis angrily put on the rest of his clothes. Oozing aggression. 

What a nice view from the back, though, Ardyn couldn’t help but notice…those back muscles moving fluently underneath the bra clasp. And that butt, framed so nicely by the lace hugging the meat of his cheeks—but then it was covered. Those damn dress pants. 

Ardyn’s heart sighed. Well. At least he’d gotten to appreciate the sight for a split second. He would cherish the memory. Ignis couldn’t stop him! 

“Are you just going to stand there watching me?” Ignis snapped. “I’m not a zoo animal, you understand.” 

Ardyn raised his hands again, even though Ignis was refusing to look at him. “That wasn’t my intention. …You’re the one who stopped me from leaving, after all, if you remember…” 

At that, Ignis said nothing. He just zipped up his pants with a sharp tug and moved onto his shirt. 

Shaking his head, Ardyn walked slowly back to camp. He was genuinely waiting for Ignis to sneak behind him and stick a knife in his back. So he kept his guard up.

Dear Etro, Ardyn mused, what a high strung young man. Although yes, this was Ignis. High strung didn’t even begin to cover it. But really, getting so worked up over something so inconsequential—beyond that, something Ignis could have played to his advantage if he saw fit! Looking that attractive in a pair of panties was a skill! 

Hmm. Ardyn was in a rather…jovial mood, these days. Jovial was one word for it. Another could be high-spirited. Or red-blooded. Or, horny. Perhaps it was all the foot jobs and blow jobs with Prompto and sexually frustrated conversations with Gladiolus…but Ardyn was actually turned on by the sight of Ignis in that get-up. He wouldn’t touch the subject with a ten foot pole—since Ignis was so sensitive about it—but by the gods. Ardyn didn’t know what Ignis had to be upset about. He was a bewitching force of nature in lacy underthings. It was nothing to cry about. It was a gift! That should have been obvious.

But, there was no making sense of these boys’ hangups. Ignis wanted to hide his light under a bushel. So. That was his business. 

Ardyn piled into his own car and waited for Ignis to join the others in the Regalia. He wouldn’t bring the subject up again—not unless Ignis did. He would leave well enough alone. Pretend he hadn’t seen anything. 

That seemed to be how these boys operated. 

Unfortunately that became much harder when they arrived in Hammerhead and Ignis demonstrated quite clearly the way he would be handling the situation. 

Ardyn approached Cid (who had not gone to the Hunter’s HQ) and began asking questions about where the man was hurt. Ignoring Ardyn as if he weren’t there, Ignis brushed past him and immediately administered some of his low-key curative ability, as well as an elixir he had saved. He seemed to know exactly where Cid was hurt without even asking. 

A cold shoulder. A brush off. Ah. Ardyn saw Ignis’s move. 

He paid it no mind and went to join the others on the hunt. Every time he moved closer to Ignis, though, just as a matter of course during the fighting, Ignis leapt out of the way. Pointedly. As if he couldn’t stand to be anywhere near Ardyn. 

Once, Ignis got blindsided by one of the fiends. Hordes and hordes of fiends were attacking them and Ardyn was the only one around. So he instinctually jumped in to help. He pushed the fiend away and offered Ignis a hand to get back on his feet. 

Ignis took the hand, but once he was on his feet he shot Ardyn a narrowed, dirty look. “You don’t need to do that. I’m quite alright.” 

Ardyn shrugged. “Just offering a bit of—”

Glaring at him, Ignis ignored the rest of his comment and leapt back into the fray of the fight. 

Oh. So that’s how it was going to be.

And indeed it was. For days afterward, Ignis did his best to make it clear that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with Ardyn. He turned down Ardyn’s offers to help with meals, “No. Thank you.” He served him forks that ‘just happened to fall on the ground.’ He refused to sit anywhere near Ardyn, either in the car or at the campsite. In battle, he stood his ground as far away from Ardyn as he could. Slapping away helping hands or storming off angrily every time Ardyn got close. 

What was the endgame here? Ardyn wondered. Was Ignis just going to be rude like this until Ardyn had enough and left? The others were starting to notice. Even Prompto asked Ignis if he was alright once. “Perfectly fine,” Ignis answered curtly. They never got closer than that, but they all saw the weirdness. In fact, they probably even knew the cause. It couldn’t have been hard to connect the dots between Ignis’s behavior and the time Ardyn went to find him in the forest. 

So. Because of that, they all steered quite clear from the subject. 

Cowards.

The bottom line? Ardyn didn’t want to leave the group. Not yet, anyway. Not until his plans were…or, well, something. Just, he wanted to leave on his own terms. Certainly.

He wouldn’t leave just because Ignis was being prissy. However, he did not like the current state of affairs. Things were too tense among the group. Evenings were not nearly as pleasant now as they once were. Ignis’s cold shoulder drove Ardyn to distraction sometimes. Times when he found himself straining to think up a solution.

Ignis was a difficult case. Prickly and so deeply closeted about his own little penchant that he fully resented Ardyn for knowing about it. 

Ardyn could only see a single solution. At least, only one that had any chance of success. Killing two birds with one stone, as it were. 

Maybe a shot in the dark. But. Better than nothing.

________________________________________________________________ 

Even if Ignis traced his entire history back to the day he was born—and he could, he sometimes did—there was no explanation for it. Perhaps if he went deeper, looked into his ancestry and genetic bloodline, there would be something. An odd relative or a scandal or something. Once, he did the research. But no. There was nothing especially notable about the Scientia bloodline. Just dukes and duchesses as far back as history could recall, men and women vying for a chance to get as close to the royal family as they could. Finally succeeding with Ignis. Such as he was. 

He’d given up searching for a reason. Everyone had _something_ they were ashamed of, Ignis believed. That’s why they called it leverage. Because it could be used to shame people into behaving a certain way. Blackmail, extortion. Just plain old guilt. Baggage. _Leverage_. 

Ignis had been careful. That was the hell of it. He’d been so careful! He knew it wouldn’t be easy to keep his secret under wraps (almost literally) when he went on the road, so he’d made his habits known right away. Created a routine within the group so that they wouldn’t question him. Every morning Ignis went off on his own. Yes, naturally. He’d made that a goal and he’d achieved it. He thought the hard part was over! 

Even the trickier parts—buying new underwear, for example—he’d maneuvered gracefully. All it took was a few trips for groceries with the others and Ignis making their lives especially miserable. Pretending to debate with himself for hours over which vegetable he should buy (as if he hadn’t already decided what to buy days before he even conceived of going shopping). That guaranteed him complete solitude when he went to buy groceries, which meant he could make a short detour to a boutique or a garment trader. Someone who sold what he needed. 

From there it was the usual lie, “I have a date tonight, you see.” Or, “Well she has very specific tastes.” Sometimes, “Would you agree this is something a lady of good taste might appreciate?” 

Simple. 

It didn’t worry Ignis that he was a terrific liar. In fact, subterfuge was something he prided himself on. He’d studied the arts of manipulating the royal courts to his favor. He was good at reading people, spying their weaknesses. Exploiting them if he chose. In fact, he was great at it. 

…What he couldn’t abide, unfortunately, was weakness in himself. Personal weakness. Ignis had tried to excise all exploitable facets of his personality since the day he met Noctis—the day he realized what he would be doing with the rest of his life. The day he made the promise to live for another person. 

Insecurities about his looks and intelligence? Ignis shrugged them off. Fears? Inconsequential. Worthless. Eventually, nondescript. Ignorance, things he didn’t know or understand? Ignis studied day in and day out to have the upper hand in whatever he might need. Lack of strength? Poor fighting skills? Ignis trained just as hard as any glaive—even harder—to make sure he could hold his own. 

The only exploitable thing about himself was Noctis. That’s how it should be.Noctis would always be his weakness because Ignis could not live without him. Was not meant to. 

Well, Noctis and…

Even as a young boy, Ignis was attracted to lingerie. He remembered going to Insomnia for the first time and seeing a window display of a fancy brassier with straps that tied to a pair of equally stunning panties. Ignis—a boy of perhaps seven or eight—stared for so long he almost tripped over his feet. His uncle berated him for being slow. 

How could there be something so beautiful in the world? Ignis spent years mulling over that question. People were ordinary, he knew. There was nothing special about the human form underneath clothing…but _that_? Dressing the body up like that? How could it even be allowed? It was the ultimate expression of everything pleasing and good and charming and artistic…

Women were so lucky they got to wear things like that. Ignis knew, as a boy, that he was doomed to wear nothing but boring grey underpants forever. It was a cutting blow. One his young psyche could barely take.

When he was twelve, Ignis managed to get his hands on a lingerie magazine. Rinoa’s Confidence, it was called. Each glossy page was a revelation. Bras and panties came in such vivid colors, many various styles. There were thongs and g-strings. Boy shorts and sweetheart cuts. Different ways to show off a women’s rear end. And then there were…bottomless panties. Panties that had the seat cut out of them. Ignis got his first ever erection looking at those panties. 

Magnificent. Heavenly. 

The bras? Ignis traced the patterns of so many women’s bosoms, curious beyond belief. Knowing he would never have a pair of his own, but delighting at the sheer ingenuity of it. The engineering that held a woman’s breasts up in just such a way. Bespoke, that was the word. Flattering. Ignis gripped his own flat chest and wished he could trace a line of lace over himself. He would look silly but…

…but how did it feel? 

Ignis wore out the pages of that magazine he looked at it so much. It was his guilty pleasure after days upon days spent throwing himself into his studies and training. One of the only things Ignis had that was not touched by his royal duties—something he definitely should not be doing, but did anyway. His one rebellion. Quiet and meek, silent, but there. 

Exhilarating in the fact that this little disobedience existed at all. 

Of course, one day his uncle found that magazine. Somehow. Probably on a routine inspection of Ignis’s rooms, which happened increasingly the more Ignis was accepted into the fold of royal retainers. And of course, his uncle was furious. He rolled up the magazine and beat Ignis over the head with it several times. That alone didn’t especially hurt. It was the shame. Being hit with the reality of that magazine, of what it represented, of having someone else (his uncle, who expected him to be perfect, who knew Ignis _could_ be perfect if he tried) know about it and find it disappointing. Ignis had tears in his eyes by the time his uncle was done. 

To this day, Ignis would never know what his uncle was more upset about. The idea that Ignis could have been masturbating to the pictures in there (which he was), or the idea that Ignis wanted to wear those pretty things (which he did). He didn’t know what his uncle had figured out about the situation. And he never would. Especially not now, with his uncle long since passed into the Scientia history books. Dead and buried.

It hardly mattered. Ignis didn’t buy any more magazines after that incident. 

However, when he was fifteen Ignis got his own credit card. He was living on his own now, an independent. Things were going well. To celebrate all his successes, Ignis decided to allow himself a treat. One indulgence. Just one. 

After all, he’d never managed to stop thinking about lingerie even though he’d lost the magazine. The idea was always in his head. Whether he had a picture in front of him or not. He turned to it whenever he needed to rest. To shut off everything else and just…feel good. 

So, Ignis used his brand new credit card to send away for a luxury bra and panties. Rinoa’s Confidence had a wonderfully discreet billing service, it turned out. And Ignis found the most delightful ensemble: Royal blue satin panties with white lace, matched with a push-up bra of the same color. Lace that wrapped around the back and two thin spaghetti straps. A thing of beauty. Something Ignis told himself he deserved, even though he probably didn’t actually deserve to even hold such a thing in his hands. Let alone wear it. 

He was sweating viscerally when the package finally arrived. 

In fact, Ignis’s own naked body was really nothing special, he thought. He was toned from working out, but. He would forever be a nerdy, bookish thing. His hips were far too skinny, almost womanish. His cock was average in size and length, nothing to write home about. He was nothing like some of the meatier men in the glaive, like Gladiolus, and he was nothing like the pretty boys around the court who could get their way with nothing but a simper. Ignis was what he was. Somewhere in the middle of underdeveloped and boring. A fifteen year old dressed like an eighty year old. A random face in the crowd.

But when he slipped on those panties…

Ignis moaned out loud as the satin caressed his genitals. He was staring at himself in the mirror. He looked….oh, gods help him, he looked gorgeous. The deep blue made his skin come alive. The cut of the panties hung low on his hips, showing off some of his pubic hair. A…tease. He looked like a tease! And his rear end…perky and round. Somehow those panties made his ass look like a woman’s—delectable. 

The more Ignis looked at himself, the harder he got. He could see his own cock now, underneath the fabric, and it looked…strange, actually. He’d never seen a cock underneath a pair of panties in any of those magazine pictures, but. He liked it. His cock seemed proud of itself beneath that satin. Jubilant. A peacock flaunting its feathers.

Ignis touched himself over the fabric of those panties and felt like he was floating. Like he was somewhere outside his body, or like his body had become a thing that existed entirely for pleasure. Nothing else. 

It was divine.

With the bra in place—a pushup bra that gave him some definition when he turned to the side—Ignis could have cried. He felt finally complete. Not just some random passerby, or a hanger-on to the royal name. Not some weird, precocious kid who never managed to be exactly enough for anyone. He felt…whole. 

He was supposed to wear this. He looked amazing. 

Falling to his knees, Ignis rubbed his hand across those satin panties until he came all over himself. Leaning against the mirror. Panting. Unable to catch his breath. Ecstatic and satisfied. In a way he’d never tasted before. 

There was no going back. 

Ignis bought a few more pairs of panties and a couple bras from Rinoa’s Confidence. He only wore them in his apartment, curtains drawn and lights off. Just to masturbate, in the end. But then he got the idea that he could wear them the entire time he was at home. What difference did it make? Ignis lived alone. He could walk around his apartment wearing whatever he wanted. No one needed to know. 

Then, once while he was dressed up, Ignis received a visitor. The women next door ringing his doorbell again and again. Terrified, out of time, Ignis threw on a t-shirt and pants over the women’s underthings and answered his door. 

She let herself in, frantic. Talking about how her dog had gone missing and had Ignis seen him? 

Doing his best to remain stoic, Ignis assured her several times that he had not. But she was so persistent, he eventually had to agree to accompany her on a quick search around the apartment complex. Looking for this dog. Ringing doorbells and asking questions.

All while secretly wearing his Rinoa’s Confidence panties. And bra. 

At first Ignis wanted to die of shame. Someone was going to find out. They’d see the line of the bra under the t-shirt. They’d realize Ignis was walking funny—trying to maneuver his incorrigible hard-on—or they’d just… _know_. They’d figure it out. As if the truth were written in bold letters across Ignis’s forehead: “I’m a pervert who likes wearing ladies’ panties. I’m wearing them right now. Crucify me.” 

Somehow, the idea of that did nothing to dissuade his cock from throbbing. Reminding Ignis every second exactly what he was wearing. 

Yet, after a whole day traipsing around the complex, not one single person confronted Ignis about it. Not even his neighbor, who was with him the entire time. Could people really not see? Did they not know? Were they just being polite…? No, impossible. They must not have been able to tell. Apparently Ignis’s clothes did the job of hiding those underthings.

Incredible. 

They finally found the neighbor’s dog rifling through some garbage. His neighbor was beyond pleased, but angry with the dog for making her worry and for being so naughty looking for treats in the trash. Mission accomplished, Ignis went back to his own apartment and locked the door.

Not a moment after the door was closed, Ignis ripped off all his clothes and jerked off. On his knees in the middle of the foyer. Unable to hold back, shoving his free hand in his mouth to stop himself from screaming. 

It was horribly arousing, wearing panties out in public. Clandestinely. Where everyone was looking at him but no one could see. His own little secret. 

As he came, he imagined every single person who had seen him that day. So many people. Their eyes were like an aphrodisiac to him. He imagined them looking and actually seeing him for real—it brought him to new heights.

After that, Ignis had to push the envelop a little. He wore panties out in public more often. Underneath his regular attire. He did his best to act as if nothing were different—even though he had to excuse himself to the men’s room to masturbate sometimes; the pressure was too much. 

Everyone he knew was looking at him. The Crownsguard, Noctis. Even Regis—the king!—had seen him. All those eyes…

Before he knew what has happening, Ignis was addicted. And well, addictions were strange things. Ignis had no penchant for alcohol or cigarettes or drugs. But. There was no way he could stop himself from wearing women’s underthings. 

Eventually he decided to forego boxers and men’s underwear altogether. Unless he was going on a date. 

Late in his teens, Ignis came to terms with the fact that he was gay—not quite a shocker—and started courting a few suitable, like-minded young men. There were a decent amount in Insomnia. The gay scene was fairly active and Ignis was comfortable in its circle. He had a few very nice experiences, but nothing lasting. How could any of his relationships last? Ignis was already married. Not to a person, but to his life’s work. His promise. Still. There was no reason he couldn’t go on dates and enjoy sex like a normal man. So he did. 

Around the time he was twenty, Ignis decided to test the waters a little more. By this time, he was secure in his fetish. He had a whole section of his closet dedicated to bras and panties. Things he would not trade for the world. Wearing women’s underwear was a facet of his personality. He couldn’t change it, and he wouldn’t. It felt right. It was his indulgence and Ignis figured he was allowed at least one. Just this one thing. 

He decided to share it with his boyfriend at the time. 

He called the young man (his name? Ignis knew it well enough. Cassius. That alone should have been a foreshadow) and told him he had a surprise waiting. Something he was bound to appreciate (okay, so Ignis might not have been a master of sexual enticement, but. His ass looked great in a pair of half-moon low riders. So maybe that made up for it.) When Cassius arrived, Ignis led him into the bedroom and started stripping. Of course, underneath he was wearing some silky panties and a bespoke brassier. The nicest pair he owned, with ties from the bottom of the cups to the hem of the panties. Along with a garter to complete the look. 

Cassius’s jaw dropped. 

“What do you think?” Ignis asked, already hot and bothered because he was being seen for the first time wearing his heart’s desire. His cock was hard, poking through the top of his panties. Thirsty. He wanted to straddle Cassius’s legs and give him a lap dance. …Was Ignis capable of giving a lap dance? Yes, certainly. It sounded simple enough.

“Whoa, that’s….” Cassius swallowed hard and stood up. “That’s uh…pretty weird, man.” 

Ignis froze. All at once, his rose-tinted view of the world shattered into harsh, grey reality. His cock flagged, softening as if he’d just jumped into an ice cold pond. The true anti-aphrodisiac. 

“I mean, uh, like, if that’s what you’re into, that’s fine,” Cassius started gathering his things. Leaving. “But um, you know. I’m not into like gender fuckery or whatever. I’m just a gay dude, okay? I like guys.” 

Ignis was trying to keep up. “Oh, no, I’m not….” Ignis did not consider himself anything other than a man. He never doubted that. He liked his gender and he felt quite comfortable within its confines. He just…happened to be a man that looked good in lacy underwear! That’s all. 

He didn’t like wearing panties because they were women’s things. He liked them because they were _beautiful_ things.

But…how could he explain that? Did it even make sense? Clearly Cassius had already made up his mind. He was literally out the door. 

“I’ll see you around, man,” Cassius called from the threshold. “Don’t call. I’ll, uh, call you first.” And with that he was gone. 

Alone, Ignis stood in his apartment feeling like the most foolish man in the world. He took off the bra and the panties, but he did not masturbate. He took a shower and tried to refocus. 

What had he really expected? People were uncomfortable with things that challenged their preconceived ideas about gender. That hadn’t occurred to Ignis as a problem because to him this wasn’t a gender thing. But to the rest of the world it certainly would be. Maybe Ignis was lucky all Cassius did was leave. He could have decided to fight him or something. And yes, Ignis could have certainly taken Cassius in a fight—without any trouble—but that wasn’t the point. At the very least, Ignis would have to bow out of all their shared social circles. Ignis didn’t appreciate the feeling of people talking behind his back. He was instinctively repulsed by the idea of gossip he couldn’t control. 

Besides, he was an idiot. He shouldn’t have gotten greedy. There was no way anyone would understand a kink like his. Why had he tried? 

For days afterward, Ignis felt more alone than he had in years. He even stopped wearing the lingerie for a while, because it made him feel like a pariah.

The only person who noticed a change in him was Noctis. “You okay, Ig?” he asked one night over dinner. 

It wasn’t anything. An off-hand remark, really. But Ignis looked up at Noctis and was touched. Maybe it was the way Noctis was staring at him, genuinely concerned. Ignis had been in a dark place for days. Sharing the most intimate part of himself and having it rejected so stunningly put him on shaky ground. Like he was ashamed to be himself. In any way. Something he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. 

But Noctis was still Noctis. He frowned at Ignis over his cup noodles. “What happened? Didn’t work out with that guy you were seeing?” 

(Noctis was the only person in Ignis’s professional life who knew he was gay. They had agreed to keep it strictly a secret, since there was no knowing how that piece of gossip would affect Ignis down the line. Noctis, true to his word, hadn’t told a single soul. They only talked about it when they were alone.) 

“I’m…afraid not,” Ignis answered. He sighed and made himself some cup noodles. A concession of his own culinary ideals.

“Ouch. Sorry to hear that, Ig.” Noctis blew on a bite of noodles and ate it. “That guy’s probably an idiot, though. Don’t know why anyone would turn you down.”

Ignis was almost startled to hear that from Noctis. He didn’t know what to say. 

“You’re better off without somebody like that,” Noctis asserted. Ironically, considering he had literally no dating experience to speak of. But he seemed so sure in this moment. 

Heart swelling at those words, Ignis stuffed noodles into his face and focused on the burning sensation in his mouth. To keep himself together. Otherwise he might start gushing his feelings to Noctis, who certainly didn’t need to hear it. Ignis’s problems were inconsequential compared to his liege’s. And anyway, he wouldn’t want to freak Noctis out. 

“Thank you,” he said. Sort of stilted. It was the best he could do. 

Still, he felt better afterwards. Dating matters were a trivial thing. The people in the periphery of Ignis’s life would always be just that: Peripheral. It didn’t matter what they thought. They’d all be gone soon enough and the only person left would be Noctis. By extension, Gladiolus and Prompto. The people he’d sworn to protect. Everyone else and all their opinions were quite meaningless at the end of the day. 

And if Ignis felt good wearing lady’s underthings? Well, who was there to stop him? So, he went back to doing it full-time. As he liked. Nothing else felt natural to him anymore, and the idea of wearing boxers might as well have been a death row sentence. To hell with it. Ignis would just do as liked. 

He didn’t do much dating after Cassius. In fact, he hadn’t been on a date since. What was the point? He couldn’t share his whole self, and anyone other than his three Crownsguard mates didn’t matter at all. Ignis didn’t want for sex….at least, not much. Not _too_ much, anyway. He was a grown man. He knew how to please himself if he wished. 

The one thing he could never allow? His friends must not find out his secret. If they did…well, the results could be disastrous. At the very least they would see him in a different light. Ignis had no control over what that light would be. Would they deride him? Would they see him as some kind of a pervert? Would they be disgusted? Would their bond be irrevocably broken? Would they walk out like Cassius, or be forever cold to him? Unsure how to respond? 

Ignis had no idea. But he knew it would be horrible. The worst kind of torture: Rejection from the only people that mattered. 

So Ignis kept his secret safe. Well-guarded with rituals and clever ruses. He wouldn’t stop wearing panties, but he couldn’t let anyone else know. These both must remain true. 

And then…Ardyn. That…insufferable… _man_ …

He just had to come barging in on Ignis, didn’t he? He had to see everything? Every single thing there was to hide?

…Actually, Ignis liked Ardyn. Before, anyway. Ardyn had a sharp eye and keen senses. He offered intelligent advice and good conversation. He was sensitive to the needs of the group and promoted harmony amongst them. He looked out for Noctis in battle—the highest praise in Ignis’s book—and spoke politely. He sometimes even made Ignis laugh, which was unusual since Ignis’s sense of humor was often difficult to match. 

Damn it. He had liked Ardyn! Even appreciated his company. 

But now…Ardyn knew. He’d seen. In that moment, Ignis’s world came crashing down yet again. Ardyn might not have been a full-fledged part of the group, not necessarily, but he was certainly close. He was way too close to everything Ignis held dear. The risk of him telling the others was far too high. 

So Ignis—as soon as he realized Ardyn knew, would always know from then on—resorted to intimidation. Not his strongest suit, but not his weakest either. He wouldn’t actually eliminate Ardyn; he wouldn’t kill him (would he? No. He wouldn’t, no. Definitely) and he wouldn’t come right out and ask him to leave. But. He needed Ardyn to know that there was to be no camaraderie between them. No friendship. Ignis could not trust Ardyn. He would never be able to. Not as long as Ardyn knew…

…as long as Ardyn knew and…didn’t even _say_ anything about it. That was the most infuriating thing. Ardyn had eyed Ignis up and down when he saw him. He’d taken in every last detail of those panties. With cool eyes and a soft expression. He’d certainly noticed. The memory of those golden eyes still burned Ignis’s skin every time he imagined them—

But he hadn’t commented. He just acted as though Ignis were wearing anything else. As if he hadn’t seen his darkest secret. As if he didn’t even care. 

That…that kind of playacting infuriated Ignis. Certainly Ardyn cared. This was leverage after all. The piece of Ignis’s character that would be forever flawed. Ardyn might not have said anything to the others yet, but he was biding his time. Waiting. For the right time perhaps, or maybe the right way to say it. To destroy him. Every time someone found out about this part of Ignis, they destroyed him. Without fail.

When would Ardyn take his shot? 

It turned Ignis’s stomach to think about it. So, very well. They were in a cold war. Ignis would make it clear that whatever hostility Ardyn might be harboring for him, Ignis harbored just as much. He could match anything. He wouldn’t back down. It was self preservation. If Ardyn decided to stay with the group, then so be it. Ignis didn’t plan on letting up. If he decided to leave? All the better! 

The real shame of it was…

Well. The real shame was how Ignis had been affected by the whole thing. He hadn’t shown anybody what he looked like in women’s underwear since Cassius and…he hadn’t been ready for the way it would make him feel. 

_So_ exposed. Ardyn’s eyes—those godsdamn devilish, golden flecked little disasters—were like microscopes. The could see Ignis down to the very molecules in his skin. _Everything_. The way those panties hung on his hips, the line of his cock through the translucent fabric. His nipples, barely hidden behind the too-small cups. That had been a bralette (which Ignis wore most of the time, since push-up bras were far too visible underneath his tight dress shirts and even regular bras had too much padding), and Ignis knew it offered him no protection. Not from the elements, not from Ardyn’s prying eyes. 

The casual sweep of those eyes…just, taking in everything about Ignis with unhurried curiosity. Scrutiny? Ignis couldn’t even tell. He didn’t remember seeing scrutiny. Just vague interest. 

But no disgust. Ignis knew that much. Ardyn had looked at him like he might look at an interesting piece of pottery in a history museum. Pedestrian, but still present. Absorbing it all dispassionately. 

That look had turned Ignis on so very much. It was ruinous. He needed only remember the look in Ardyn’s eyes and he could get hard. Anywhere, anytime. Instantaneously. He had masturbated to the memory—how could he not?—and he’d gotten off so hard he thought he’d broken something. Like his brain, for example.

Beyond that…whenever Ardyn looked at him, from then on, Ignis felt an unmistakable shiver in his spine. An aftershock. A leftover thrill from the ultimate high of having been _seen_. If Ardyn looked at him too long, Ignis would start to feel the cut of the bra in his skin. The satin of his panties cradling his manhood. Too much. Eventually he got stiff no matter where they were or who was around. It was hell and he was quite powerless against it.

Sometimes he thought Ardyn knew this and was purposefully staring at him. Just to make him squirm. Other times, Ignis thought he’d conjured everything in his head and nothing was real anymore. He was completely torn. He just…he wished that Ardyn would stop looking at him. He couldn’t take it anymore. (This was another reason for Ignis to steadfastly avoid Ardyn, especially during battle.) 

And yet, at the same time, Ignis wanted Ardyn to look at him more. Deep down, he wanted Ardyn to see him again. Like that. Wearing that. He wanted Ardyn to take his time, _really_ look. He wanted Ardyn to get off on it too. He wanted Ardyn to touch him. Maybe even spread him open. Show him what he was hiding in those foppish pants he always wore, take Ignis for a ride…

It had been so damn long since Ignis was properly fucked. And no one had ever really _looked_ at him before…

The more time passed like this, the more of a mess Ignis became. He was developing tics he never had before—tics that only showed up around Ardyn. Biting his lip, grasping his wrist as tightly as he could. Chewing the inside of his mouth. All in a desperate attempt to keep himself from imploding. Either in hatred—damn Ardyn to hell for doing this to him, for being so cruel about it, not even _saying_ anything, letting Ignis stew while he waited for the worst to come—or in desire. 

_Please look at me._

Ignis was getting near the begging point. He’d never begged for anything in his life, but…he was getting there. 

He had no solution to this. There was no way out. His body had gotten well out of hand, in part because of his own weaknesses and how he’d never trained himself to fight this desire. The harmony amongst the group was all but ruined because of Ignis’s own anger and uneasiness. He couldn’t fix that either. 

Perhaps he’d perish. 

It was a long shot, but Ignis could always hope. 

__________________________________________________

After several days roughing it at havens, they finally agreed to spend a night in Lestallum. The luxury suite. A rare treat, but hard earned this time. They had their pick of any restaurant in the city, especially because they’d made quite a lot of gil taking care of various hunts. They were rising within the Hunter’s ranks pretty nicely. Even Ignis was proud of their progress. 

While they loafed around the hotel room, playing cards and debating where to go for dinner, Ardyn approached Ignis. Ignis could feel the man’s presence long before any words were spoken. He stood at the kitchen sink, washing out their cups and a few of the snack plates they’d used. And then, there was Ardyn. Suddenly. Like a nightmare.

Ignis instantly bristled. Preparing. He didn’t know what emotion would hit him first this time. The anger or the lust. It was a gamble.

“May I speak with you for a moment?” Ardyn asked, speaking just so Ignis could hear him. 

Shivers ran down Ignis’s neck to the point he could literally feel those words. He shook his head. “No.” A simple enough answer. 

Ardyn sighed. “Well I have something I need to discuss with you. And I suppose we could do it here, but…it was my understanding you wanted some discretion around this particular subject.” 

Ignis’s heart skipped a beat. He turned off the sink with dreadful calm. Steeling himself. 

So. Here it was at last. Ardyn’s strike. In a way, it was a relief. Finally. No more beating around the bush. 

The other three were in the adjoining room. Well within earshot. Ignis was completely at Ardyn’s mercy. He knew it. They both did.

Turning to the man carefully, trying to maintain his dignity, he nodded. “…Very well. Where shall we go.” 

Ardyn watched Ignis carefully. “Come. Let’s go to my room.” Whenever they stayed in a hotel, Ardyn made sure to rent his own personal room. Away from the others, since no room they could afford accommodated five. Also because he was not quite on the same level of familiarity with the rest to share a bedroom with all of them. Although, Prompto sometimes bunked with Ardyn. Every so often. Gladiolus too, though never at the same time. Only when they were tight on space. Ignis appreciated that his friends volunteered themselves like that…since he could not. 

“Excuse us a moment, comrades,” Ardyn announced to the group. Making an exit for both him and Ignis. “We’ll be right back.” 

Ignis nodded, but he could not look at any of them. He just walked out the door. Waiting for Ardyn across the hall. 

Once the were inside, it occurred to Ignis how vulnerable he was. Ardyn could demand anything of him in this moment and Ignis might have to comply. Well, he could comply or fight. Possibly to the death—Ardyn was a strong fighter, he knew that much. Someone who hid his true abilities, Ignis surmised long ago. So there was no telling how this might turn out. 

Ardyn walked into the sitting room, but he did not sit. Instead, he pulled a paper bag out of his trench coat and offered it to Ignis. “Here. This is for you.” 

The afternoon was turning towards evening. With the sun at his back, Ardyn’s face was shrouded in darkness. Ignis could only make out half of the man's face. It seemed to be…blank. Unreadable. But, calm. Unhurried. Not angry or vengeful. Not vindictive. Although, Ignis worried about the other half. Ardyn could certainly turn out to be a man of two minds. He wouldn’t put it past him. 

Ignis approached him hesitantly, but he didn’t take the bag. “What’s the meaning of this?” 

Ardyn held the bag up higher. Forcing Ignis to look at it. (It was small. There couldn’t be anything bigger than a trinket inside. And there was no store logo on the outside.)

“A truce, if you like.” He paused. “A piece of friendly advice if you don’t. I suppose you can take or leave either.” 

Ignis frowned. He didn’t want to accept anything from this man. Anything felt like a concession at this point. But…did he really have a choice? 

Realizing he did not, Ignis took the bag. He truly had no idea what it could be. No guesses made even a little bit of sense. As always, he could not begin to understand what Ardyn was playing at. 

When he looked inside, Ignis gasped. His face turned bright red and his breath escaped him. …His pants were suddenly far too tight. Ashamed, he held the bag out to Ardyn as if he could force the man to take it back. 

“What—what on Eos are you—is this—?"

Ardyn shrugged one shoulder. “It’s much more your color, I think. And the bra is your size. You should wear something better suited towards your measurements, my friend.” He raised his hands innocently. A familiar gesture. “But that’s my opinion. And I’m an old man, one of no consequence. So you can decide for yourself.” 

They stood there staring at each other. Ignis could not even begin to wrap his head around what Ardyn wanted from all this. Was this a joke? A cruel dig in Ignis’s direction? A declaration of all-out war? Was it the beginning of a maelstrom, a sign that Ardyn would start bullying Ignis for real? Without mercy?

Or was it…really…? 

Ignis hung his head. He didn’t know. He just didn’t know, damn it. “What exactly do you want from me?” He wished he could keep the defeat out of his voice. But he hadn’t ever faced a problem like this before and he didn’t know the right way to act. 

“Nothing, I suppose,” Ardyn admitted. He sat on the saggy sofa with a plop. “Perhaps an end to the bitterness you seem to hold for me. But, if that’s not possible then you can do whatever you like. Maybe that little gift in your hands will put you in better spirits.” 

Ignis looked at the bag again. The items inside were seared in his memory after only a glance. He’d never worn something so…well those colors were…and he’d never been measured. So he couldn’t buy something in his size if he wanted to. How could Ardyn tell what size he was…? From that day alone? 

The gift was certainly tempting. Ignis wanted to look at it again. Maybe take out the bra and panties, examine them up close. See what kind of taste Ardyn had—but—

This had to be a ruse. A ploy. Some kind of blackmail? A threat? Ignis needed to know what he’d be paying for such finery as the lacy underthings Ardyn had just given him. 

“Why haven’t you told the others yet?” Ignis asked, looking at the floor. Unsure how to get to the bottom of this.

“Well I don’t plan to,” Ardyn said. “I promised I wouldn’t, remember? Besides, why should I? It’s none of my business.” 

“Is this some kind of trick? Say it plainly.” 

“What trick?” Ardyn leaned forward in the sofa. Resting his hands on his knees. “To what end? What do I stand to gain from knowing what you have on underneath your clothes, Ignis? That’s hardly royal capital, you understand. It’s barely even a conversation starter. Really, I don’t think there’s any way I could spin this to take advantage of you.” He smiled and shook his head. “It’s a trivial thing. You’re a rational man. You must know that.” 

Ignis liked to believe he was rational. But not…in all things. 

“If it’s trivial, then why give me this?” He gestured towards the bag. 

Ardyn blinked. “Because I thought it would look nice on you.” 

To that, Ignis didn’t know what to say. His mind raced. Ardyn thought…he’d been thinking about Ignis. About him wearing women’s underwear. Not because he found it laughable, but because he found it…nice? 

“Nice how?” Ignis demanded. His eyes drilled a hole through Ardyn’s face. 

Ardyn just chuckled. “My dear, if you don’t know how absolutely delicious you look in women’s lingerie then I’m afraid you’ve passed beyond the limits of my help.” 

Those words slithered through Ignis’s ears, then down through the rest of him. Reaching every corner of his thirsty, aching body. Those words were drops of euphoria sprinkled in the secret places of him that hungered the most. He trembled, suddenly rock hard in his panties. His nipples pressed against the confines of his bra. 

Ardyn was still looking at him. 

Ignis’s mind went hazy. His hands shook with the desire to start undressing. He wanted Ardyn to see him. Right _now_. He didn’t know if he could stop himself—not with those words and those eyes staring—

There was a knock at the door. “Hey guys,” Prompto chimed from the other side. “We’re headed to dinner. You coming?” 

The air between Ardyn and Ignis crackled. Neither said anything for a moment. Both equally unsure if they were about to leave or start…something else. Whatever that entailed. 

Finally Ardyn said, “Be right there.” He stood and brushed Ignis’s shoulder on the way out, saying nothing else on the subject. Since it was clear Ignis had completely frozen yet again. 

With the door open, Ignis swallowed and regarded his friends. He was in no state to be around anyone. Not like _this_. 

“I need a moment alone, I think,” he excused himself and went back in their shared room. “You go on ahead. I’ll make myself something small to eat in the room.” 

“You sure, Ig?” Noctis asked, suspicious.

“Very, yes.” 

No one ever questioned Ignis for very long. The four of them left without much argument. 

Alone at last, Ignis tore into the bag Ardyn gave him. There were still tags attached but no store label. Probably from a passing merchant? Or maybe one of the many vendors throughout Lestallum? Ignis remembered Ardyn breaking ranks with them earlier that afternoon. Maybe he’d bought it then…

Ignis laid the bra and panties out on the hotel bed. Dear sweet mother of Shiva…these were luxury items! Matching shades of crimson with black lace embellishments. The bra was only a quarter cup (C cup? Did Ardyn really think Ignis would fit into that?), in the balconette style. Meant to show off some cleavage. Extravagant and lovely. Dark, but inviting. A black bow hung between the cups like a kiss. The panties were made of crushed velvet. Not usually Ignis’s style, especially in this heat. But that wasn’t the most outlandish part of it: The sides were nothing but a string. The back was trimmed with black lace, enough to show a good half of Ignis’s butt cheeks, but the front…the front barely existed. It was _so_ small! Just a tiny patch of fabric! There was no earthly way Ignis’s cock would fit in there! He’d be hanging out. And the strings along the side were so fragile. Who knew if they would hold for any of the acrobatic moves Ignis normally did. One snap and he’d be without any underwear at all—

“Nnh.” 

Biting his lip, Ignis fell to his knees and buried his face in the soft velvet of those panties. They were exquisite. So sexy. He was burning up. He wanted to touch himself so badly. He wanted to reach for the little toy hidden away in his personal bag. He wanted to fuck himself on it and pretend it was Ardyn—

Hmm. But no.

No. Actually, Ignis had a better idea.

_____________________________________________________________

They stayed one more day in Lestallum. Something about the atmosphere of the city made it very difficult to leave. It was peaceful and sultry. Welcoming in a way not even Insomnia was. People were cosmopolitan, but easy-going. Ignis liked the city. Even if he was currently sweating through his clothes.

They sat around a small cafe table finishing up their lunches. Ignis had been fingering his phone all day, keeping Ardyn in his sights. Waiting for the right time.

When the conversation turned to jokes, when Ardyn was laughing and telling his usual brand of outlandish stories, Ignis decided to go for it. He wanted to see the look on the man’s face. He wanted to watch everything. 

So, Ignis took out his phone and texted him. Privately. They had all exchanged numbers some time ago. Normally they texted in a group chat, but of course, this was just between Ignis and Ardyn.

**Ignis** : _I’m wearing your gift right now._

Ardyn paused as his phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen curiously. As he read the text message, a tiny smile appeared on one side of his mouth. He did not look Ignis in the face as he typed a response. 

Good. So Ardyn knew how to play this game. Ignis sipped Ebony and waited.

Ignis waited a few minutes before checking his phone. To disguise the fact that he and Ardyn were having a private conversation in front of everyone. He knew how to play too. 

**Ardyn:** _Are you? I’m flattered. How do you like it?_

**Ignis:** _You were right. It does fit me better. And the design is lovely. You have a keen eye._

By now, Ardyn was grinning over his phone. Ignis’s heart pounded in his chest. He could see Ardyn was into this. That made him happier than he ought to be, happier than he’d been in quite a while. 

**Ardyn:** _I like to think so. I’m sure it looks marvelous on you._

**Ignis:** _It does._

He waited a few moments. Then he went in for the kill. 

**Ignis:** _Would you like to see?_

As the conversation buzzed around them, Ardyn glanced in Ignis’s direction. His eyes were twinkling. There was a mischievous, nearly predatory look in his eye. It made Ignis shiver. He wanted more of that look. That one specifically. The one that told Ignis the other man _wanted_ to look. That was impossible for Ignis to resist. 

**Ardyn:** _Yes, I would. Very much._

Ignis would cherish that text message for a long time. He might even save it forever. 

**Ignis:** _Then let’s go back to your room._

**Ardyn:** _Let’s. Now?_

**Ignis:** _Yes now. I’ll make our excuses._

He really couldn’t wait much longer. So, he stood up from the table and said, “Ardyn, would you help me stock up on some ingredients? Our supplies are running dismally low.” (That was a lie of course, but the others wouldn’t know.) 

“Tch, run while you can, Ardyn,” Gladiolus commented. “Ignis goes a little overboard when it comes to the shopping.” 

“Tell me about it…” Noctis agreed. He’d gotten the worst of Ignis’s smoke screen, it was true. Partially because Ignis took pleasure in torturing his liege with the promise of vegetables. 

Ardyn smiled and stood up. “I’ll take that under consideration. But actually I’d like to peruse Lestallum’s famous marketplace. It’s been ages since I had the chance.” He turned to Ignis and nodded. “Shall we?” 

Successfully freed from any responsibility for the rest of the day, Ignis and Ardyn took a roundabout path back to the hotel. In the narrow alleyways and winding stairwells, it was difficult for Ignis to keep his hands to himself. He wanted to grab some part of Ardyn. Something to remind him that they were doing this. That Ardyn had bought him underwear and now he wanted to _see_ it. 

Once the door to Ardyn’s bedroom closed behind them, Ignis let out a repressed moan from somewhere deep inside. He pushed his way into Ardyn’s unsuspecting arms, grabbing the man’s face and crushing their mouths together.

He was done with patience. Done with waiting of any kind. He wanted this. So badly he had practically gone mad for it. 

Ardyn tasted like the chili spice from their lunch and also like a man. Just a man. The thing Ignis had been craving for so very long. A man. Stubble scratching his chin as their faces pressed together. Musk and sweat from the day. And a tang…something foreign that Ignis couldn’t place. Like a taste of something…old. A scent or maybe a taste. Ignis didn’t know. But he liked it. 

He wrapped his arms around Ardyn’s neck, unwilling to let him go. Ardyn kissed him back and it was the most magnificent feeling in the world. That Ardyn would want this. That he would show him how much he wanted it with his body. With the way he kissed—matching Ignis toe to toe for passion. With the stiffness between his legs, bumping into Ignis’s stomach. 

“Mmm…Ardyn…” Ignis was reaching a point of arousal where he was…amenable to suggestions. That was one way to put it. Another way would be to say that Ignis was reaching a kind of subspace where the only thing that mattered was instinct. The things he denied himself on a regular basis that were supremely important in times like this.

Needless to say, he was losing himself to his own desires. Falling apart at the seams. It hadn’t taken any time at all for him to get here. Just a few text messages and a promise that Ardyn was interested. Now Ignis was ready to do anything.

Grabbing hold of Ignis’s chin, Ardyn stopped their kissing. “Are you going to show me, darling? Or do you plan to stand here and ravish me to death?” 

“Hmm…” Ignis licked his lips, chasing the taste of Ardyn’s saliva. “Both sound like wonderful options."

Smirking, Ardyn kissed Ignis’s cheek and plopped down on the couch. He hooked his arms around the back and rested his ankle on one knee. Settling in. “All the same, I’ll take the performance now. If you would.” 

Performance. Ignis kicked off his shoes. He did not know if he would be any good at this, but…he could try. It was one of his biggest fantasies after all. 

Locking eyes with Ardyn, Ignis began undressing. He undid his belt and threw it on the floor. Took off his gloves, adding them to the growing pile of discarded items. His shirt came next. He undid each of the buttons slowly, making sure Ardyn was watching. 

And oh yes. Ardyn was watching. He didn’t even blink as his eyes tracked Ignis’s fingers. Those eyes. Yes, yes please Astrals. Those eyes. 

Ignis let his shirt hang open, exposing the crimson lace underneath. The black satin bow. Then he moved onto his pants. Sliding down the zipper, Ignis moaned breathily as the front of his panties were exposed. Ardyn could see the way Ignis’s cock peeked out of the velvet, unable to fit. He could see how hard Ignis was, the little drop of liquid gathering across his tip. The signs that Ignis was beyond aroused. Well into needy territory. 

“Oh my, look at you…” Ardyn mused. 

Ignis dropped his pants and stepped out of them, along with his socks. He couldn’t take his eyes away from Ardyn, who was rumbling as he stared at Ignis’s panties. A lewd expression on his face. And then, a slow nod.

“Yes, it suits you. That color is perfect.” Ardyn grinned. Pleased. “I knew it.” 

Feeling like a specimen rather than a person— _fuckyes_ —Ignis pulled off his dress shirt. Letting it fall to the floor. He stood before Ardyn in nothing but the underwear. Panting as if he’d just run a mile. Waiting for instructions.

Ardyn seemed to know exactly what Ignis needed to hear. 

“How gorgeous you are,” Ardyn ambled to his feet. Eyes roaming all over Ignis’s body. Drinking him like water. Ignis quivered on his feet. “Stay still for a moment. Let me see you properly.” 

Ignis stood motionless.

Humming, Ardyn toyed with the bow between Ignis’s pecs. His fingers traced the line of the lace, slipping it a bit lower so that the top of Ignis’s nipple peeked out. Ignis gasped when Ardyn touched him there—his nipples were extremely sensitive, especially after being surrounded by lace all day. They poked through the fabric like a woman’s tits would.

Ardyn passed his thumb across Ignis’s nipples and watched him tremble. “You are an absolute treasure, my dear. All wrapped up in lace. Waiting for someone to look at you, is that it?” 

The truth. His dirtiest secret. For some reason that sounded like a revelation in Ardyn’s mouth. Even though Ignis had known it for years. He nodded, wishing Ardyn would touch him more. 

“Well then, be honest,” Ardyn trailed his fingers down Ignis’s sides. He toyed with the thin string along the panties. “Tell me what you want.” 

Ignis held onto Ardyn’s shoulders. As much to maintain balance as to keep the man in place while he uttered this. The thing he’d never asked anyone before. 

“Please…Ardyn, look at me. Please look at me.” 

“Oh, I’m looking, darling. Don’t worry about that.” Ardyn flashed his teeth as he smiled. “Turn around. I want to see the rest of you.” 

Ignis did as he was told. Now he was facing the wall and Ardyn had a perfect view of his backside. 

“Ah, yes, this is the prize I’ve been waiting for. This perfect, round little bottom. So pretty in your panties.” Ardyn patted Ignis’s cheeks. Groping the hemline where it left him exposed. Running a finger along the visible line of Ignis’s crevice, teasing the nether part that just barely covered his balls. 

These were the lightest caresses. Ignis’s body soaked them up, desperate, but he wanted more. He was screaming inside his head, begging Ardyn to keep going. 

But Ardyn took his sweet time. He played along with the tiny bow at the top of Ignis’s backside, chuckling to himself. Paying no mind as the tremors in Ignis body became worse and worse, evidence that Ignis was reaching the limits of his self control. That he might not be able to withstand any more teasing. 

“Bend over,” Ardyn instructed. “Touch your toes for me.” 

Without asking why, Ignis complied. He was flexible enough that it wasn’t a problem for him. His back arched in a perfect curve and his ass pointed upward. Giving Ardyn plenty to look at. It should have been a humiliating position, but, Ignis loved every second of it. Knowing he had Ardyn’s full attention. That attention was a sweet drug for him. 

“Amazing, darling. You are amazing, to the fullest extent of the word.” He snapped the string on Ignis’s panties and laughed as the other man moaned helplessly. 

A drop of pre-cum fell to the floor and Ignis just watched. He was looking at the floor, anyway. He wondered how quickly he might climax if Ardyn ever decided to touch him. Or even if he didn’t. 

Ardyn grabbed two handfuls of Ignis’s ass, groping to his heart’s content. “Spread your legs a little, won’t you?” Ignis shuffled into a better position. “Yes, just like that. Good boy.” 

Ignis vibrated with pleasure. He was performing adequately. Good. Yes, he was succeeding at this. At being seen. He wanted Ardyn to give him more instructions, just so Ignis could follow them and know he was doing the right thing.

Ardyn massaged Ignis’s ass over the panties for a bit. Then he reached around the front to tease the man’s sensitive nipples, sliding underneath the fabric of the bra to get at them. He squeezed Ignis’s pecs the same way he might squeeze a pair of tits, rumbling happily the entire time. 

“Now…” Ardyn sucked his finger into his mouth, just to get it wet. Then he slipped two fingers beneath Ignis’s panties. Finding Ignis’s hole and teasing it. “…I have half a mind to fuck you out of your mind right here, just like this.” He entered Ignis with both fingers, not stopping his ramblings even as Ignis moaned loudly. “But, the other half of me wants to tease you until you’re a hot, begging mess. Something tells me I wouldn’t have to push very hard to get you there. Am I right?” 

Ignis nodded, trying to pierce himself further down on Ardyn’s fingers. He wanted that man _deeper_. Please, deeper. _More_. 

“I figured. You’ve been wanting this a while, haven’t you?” Ardyn took his time opening Ignis up. “Far too long, I think.” 

Ignis nodded until he was dizzy. “Yes. Too long…” 

“Hmm. In that case.” Ardyn hooked his arm around Ignis’s waist and hoisted him over to the couch. “I think I’ll fuck you first. We have all night. No reason why this has to be the only time.” He bent over Ignis and kissed a line down his spine. “It would be cruel to deny you anymore, my beautiful man. And I think I’m reaching the end of my control as well.” 

He sighed. “Your ass is just too tantalizing for me, Ignis Scientia.” 

Ignis gripped the edge of the couch and stuck his ass out as far as it would go. He looked over his shoulder, eyes hazy and watery with tears. Lips shining with spit. 

“Please Ardyn, fuck me. Fuck me, please. Fuck me…fuck me now, I want it…!” 

Ardyn cursed darkly under his breath. He undid his belt pulled out his cock. It left nothing to be desired. Tiny butterflies of happiness took flight in Ignis’s veins. He wanted that cock. _Now._

Seemingly well-prepared, Ardyn also fished out a condom and a small bottle of lube from his coat. He opened the condom with his teeth and rolled it on expertly. Ignis was impressed—Ardyn was more experienced than him. For some reason, that was a turn on by itself. 

But of course Ardyn was more experienced. He was well-traveled. Older. Wiser. He didn’t think twice about Ignis’s strange kinks; he didn’t even think they were strange. He thought Ignis was beautiful in women’s underthings. 

Beautiful… 

Ignis’s heart swelled to bursting and he spread his legs wider. 

Ardyn did not bother to remove Ignis’s panties before he fucked him. Instead, he pushed them aside and entered Ignis just like that. As promised. He went all the way on the first thrust, making Ignis scream his pleasure into the couch cushions.

It had been way too damn long. Ignis was seconds away from cumming just from having Ardyn’s dick in his ass. 

He might have minded, if he were even a little bit more composed. 

Ardyn fucked Ignis with slow, brutal snaps of his hips. “Breathe, darling, keep breathing now,” he reminded him. Since Ignis was gasping for breath, eyes rolling back in his head, unseeing. 

The feeling of penetration combined with the fact that Ignis was still wearing panties…it was far too much. Not to mention the fact that Ardyn rammed Ignis’s sweet spot with ease, as if it were a natural thing. As if there were no other way to fuck. 

Ignis came apart on his cock.

“Ardyn, more…! M-more, please! More, more, more…more! I need…more!” 

Ardyn huffed a laugh, straining. “Alright. I’ll give you more. You greedy little thing.” 

His hand flitted down to Ignis’s dripping manhood. He covered it over the panties, caressing the tip with his gruff fingers. Rubbing the most tender skin on Ignis’s body. 

Squealing like a little girl, Ignis came. His squeals turned into howls as he emptied himself into Ardyn’s waiting fingers. He peaked several times, coaxing Ardyn into his climax as well. Ignis rode the coattails of his own orgasm until it felt like his balls had turned inside out.

Ardyn encouraged him the whole way through. “There you go, my dear. Take it. Take it all. Let go now.” 

So he did. He let go. 

Ignis thought he might have been cumming for days.

He was loose and limp when it was done. He might have fallen to his knees, but Ardyn held him tightly. Keeping him propped up against the couch. 

“Well now. How do you feel?” Ardyn asked, pulling out.

“No wait—” Ignis groaned in disappointment, not ready to be separated yet. Somehow, in spite of everything, he wanted to keep going. 

“It’s alright.” Ardyn dragged Ignis to his feet. Steadying him as he became wobbly. “Like I said, we have all night. Let’s head to the bedroom and you can tell me all about that orgasm you just had. It looked life-changing, if I’m being honest.” 

Giggling, Ignis let himself be led to the bedroom. He stripped naked and fell into the bed, pulling off Ardyn’s clothes once he was laying down. He learned one thing right away: Ardyn wore too many layers. 

They did end up talking. Quite a bit. Ignis told Ardyn the whole story of how his fetish started and his experiences. He listened as Ardyn told him an entirely different story, one about a woman he used to know. Or at least, Ardyn thought she was a woman. She used female pronouns, but he never got around to asking her where she fell on the gender spectrum. Anyway. She looked so unbelievably good in lingerie Ardyn had developed a taste for the garments forevermore. Enough that he would always appreciate a person who could pull them off. A person of any gender. 

“And you, my friend, are extremely gifted in that department.” Ardyn smiled. “Among many others. As I’m sure you know.” 

Ignis cradled Ardyn’s head in his hands. He kissed him hard on the mouth. “Where have you been all my life?” he asked. Only partially joking. 

At that, Ardyn threw his head back and laughed. As for the answer to that question, he promised to tell Ignis the whole story someday. If Ignis really wanted to know. 

Ignis said he did. Someday. But first, he wanted Ardyn to fuck him again. 

Ardyn was happy to comply. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *side eye* Ignis, we see you getting that tsundere on. Actually I love Ignis as a tsundere. I dig it. 
> 
> [Ignis's gift panties from Ardyn](https://www.yandy.com/Velvet-and-Lace-Panty.php) And! [Ignis's gift bra](https://www.essili.com/balconette-bra-gracya-lingerie-mon-amour.html) I can picture it really well.
> 
> Noctis is last up! Might also add another chapter as kind of like a wrap around...or maybe I'll just put something in the end of the next one. Depends on how long Noctis's part goes. We shall see! 
> 
> Live free and wear all the lacy underthings, friends!


	4. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's never easy to end a journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to put the wrap around part in this chapter. So this is the last one ^___^ 
> 
> Enjoy, guys!

**Chapter Four: Friends**

The journey seemed to be winding down. For a while they all thought they’d never run out of things to do; Lucis seemed to be filled with an endless amount of fetch requests and monster-related disasters. But in time, even those started to dry up. 

More and more, all signs pointed to the need for them to go to Altissia. They had the mythril, they had the boat. Cor was ready, Cid was ready. Everyone seemed to be ready. 

Except for Noctis. 

“Let’s go see if Wiz needs us for anything,” Noctis announced, the day after the boat was all rigged up to sail for Altissia. “We might be gone a while so I don’t want to leave him hanging.” 

No one contradicted Noctis’s instructions. He was, after all, their king. But sometimes, silence alone was a question. 

Why weren’t they going on the boat? 

What was Noctis waiting for? 

“Hey Prompto, that looks like a great place to take a photo, right?” Noctis pointed to a small alcove they passed along the highway. “Want to stop for a second?”

“Sure, buddy,” Prompto acquiesced. He didn’t bring up the fact that they’d already taken a photo op there. Twice.

“Let’s check out that fishing spot.” Noctis conjured his fishing rod and walked towards a small puddle, one that might very well have been over-fished as it was. “I’ll get you something good to make for dinner, Ignis.” 

“Very well.” Ignis adjusted his glasses. Biting his tongue against the fact that they had more than enough cooking ingredients as it was.

Things got impossible to ignore when Noctis offered to join Gladiolus on his morning jogs. That was just a step too far out of the ordinary. 

“Yeah, sure, you can come with,” Gladiolus agreed. He fixed Noctis with a serious stare. “But uh…what’s going on here?” 

“What?” Noctis frowned irritably. “I just want to stay in shape and all that shit. Aren’t you always telling me to get more swoll?” 

Gladiolus sighed, glancing pointedly at the rest of them. “Yeah. I am. You’re right.” 

“Jeez…” Noctis huffed, heading into the tent early. Not speaking to anyone else for the rest of the night. 

Ah, irritability. The young king’s most useful deflector. Ardyn hummed to himself in amusement as he watched Noctis put on that show. Every time Noctis wanted to be left alone, he just pretended to be angry. Stand-offish. Grumpy. The grumpy, selfish prince. It was not a terrible look, Ardyn reasoned, since Noctis pulled it off fairly well. The high maintenance thing. Besides, it had worked consistently in the past.

But times were changing. Noctis wasn’t a prince anymore.

And his friends…

To be blunt, Ardyn had his hands full with Noctis’s friends. Conversations were scarce among the whole group these days. Mealtimes were quiet. Comments were kept to a minimum. Things in general had just gotten awkward amongst the four bonded brothers—the weight of their unfulfilled purpose crushed the easy joviality they so often enjoyed. And Noctis was irritable all the time now. Snippy. Constantly sighing or sucking his teeth. Petulant in the extreme.

However. As their friendly interactions dried up, the young men sought out Ardyn to soothe their needs more and more. Prompto tugged at Ardyn’s elbows—literally, even—almost every day. Dragging him into diner restrooms, behind gas stations. Dangerous places where perhaps they might be caught.

But every time, Prompto said nothing. Instead, he pawed at Ardyn’s clothes until he got what he wanted—a limb or an organ he could worship. From there, Prompto filled his mouth with Ardyn’s feet. Or his cock. Effectively stifling the need to speak. He gripped Ardyn’s shirt or pant legs and refused to let go until one or both of them came.

He was a boy clinging to what made him feel good and useful. Things he could pride himself on doing without fucking up. On his knees, Prompto felt worthwhile. Satisfied and not so lost. Even if he was just choking down some guy’s dirty feet. It was the best place for him to be.

Ignis had gotten into the habit of texting Ardyn throughout the day. He sent pictures of the lingerie he was wearing. A hard cock underneath silk panties, or nipples barely hidden by lace. A toy fixed snugly inside him, nestled against the fabric of Ignis’s underwear. Ignis was wild, Ardyn soon realized, and he had a lovely assortment of plugs and strap-ons. Things, Ignis explained, that could accommodate him on such a long journey.

But could the man really be satisfied? Ardyn wondered. So far he saw no end to Ignis’s passion and daily needs.

Ignis dragged him to the riverbed nearly every morning—even earlier than before—and stripped for him. Got down on all fours and begged to be fucked. Ardyn complied, naturally. He could not say no to Ignis—such a persistent, thirsty man! It had been a long, long time since Ardyn had a lover as hot and adventurous as Ignis. He saw the opportunity as a godsend. Oh, the things he could to do this man (who deceitfully presented himself as a prude to the rest of the world). The things he could make him wear; inside and out. Scant bits of women’s lace made solely for the purpose of whetting a person’s sexual appetite. And the most teasingly designed _consolateurs_. Ardyn even got little updates throughout the day about what Ignis felt as he wore all these things! Wonderful! 

But Ardyn could see the frenzy behind Ignis’s desire. A bird flapping its wings against a cage. Like Prompto, Ignis felt quite helpless. He was unable to bring Noctis out of his funk. So instead he distracted himself with sex and other things. Increasingly. Freed for the first time from his need to hide, Ignis hit the ground running and bombarded Ardyn with every facet of his fetish.

Who was Ardyn to deny him? To deny any of them? 

Gladiolus plied Ardyn with beer every single evening now. Rambling about old times. Sometimes, about Noctis.

“I love that kid like a brother,” Gladiolus told Ardyn. Edging on drunk. “…More than that even. He…Noctis he…” Gladiolus took another swig of beer, looking miserable. “He means the world to me. Everything. And I love him, and I just want to…” 

He looked at Ardyn with a pleading look in his eyes. “What the fuck am I supposed to do, man?” 

Ardyn remained stoic. He knew Gladiolus was in love with Noctis—all these men were in love with each other, after all, that was quite obvious—but he didn’t know how to answer a question like that. 

For once, Ardyn was stoic in his reply to Gladiolus. “Given time, all things are possible.” 

It was a lame platitude at best. But still fairly accurate by Ardyn’s account of things. He had no advice left to give, especially when it came to Noctis. 

Truthfully, Ardyn had never sorted out his own feelings about Noctis. This was the man sent by the Astrals to destroy Ardyn. To end his unclean existence and bring light to the world. But Ardyn had lived for two thousand years and nearly forgotten the grudge the Astrals held against him. For his work eating the sins of others back all those years ago. Was it really so important that Ardyn be destroyed? Couldn’t the Astrals find something better to do with their hatred? Wasn’t the Scourge just another part of life itself? Life, death. Birth, destruction. These were two sides of the same coin, weren’t they?

Wasn’t Noctis a bit too young for all that? 

Ardyn…appreciated Noctis. Perhaps, in a word. He liked the spunky attitude. He knew Noctis was a good-looking young man. But he harbored no strong feelings for him either way. Noctis was too young and too naive for Ardyn to truly hate, but the prophecy was too old for Ardyn to ignore. 

And the boy looked so much like Somnus. It was uncanny. Ardyn sometimes saw his brother in the corner of his eye when Noctis passed. It could be unnerving. 

So, he watched Noctis’s suffering with a comfortable degree of emotional distance. 

At least, in the beginning. 

Little by little, as the days grew shorter and the tension amongst the group grew stronger, Ardyn began to feel a degree of sympathy for Noctis. The boy had lost both parents to the prophecy, to the needs of the many. He’d been raised like a lamb for the slaughter. Never truly meant to know happiness or satisfaction of any kind. That was not Noctis’s purpose in life. His purpose was to die for the sake of peace. For Ardyn. 

Maybe Ardyn felt a little guilty about that. 

Or maybe…

Maybe he started to notice all the myriad ways Noctis was nothing like Somnus in character. Noctis had none of his brother’s swagger and pompousness. None of the entitlement, the sheer lust for power. The unyielding drive. The machinations. Noctis just wanted….

Dear gods. Noctis just wanted to hang out and do nothing with his friends! 

It stirred Ardyn’s heart—the heart that had taught itself to be cold to the Astrals and their favorites. Noctis couldn’t be anything like what the Astrals expected, and for that Ardyn was grateful. 

He found the boy endearing. Kind, to a fault. Lonely but deserving of love in all the ways a person could be. In fact, much more than Somnus, Noctis reminded Ardyn of…

Well. 

Anyway, Ardyn hated to see Noctis looking so glum. Even though he knew what awaited these boys in Altissia—at least, what was _supposed_ to be waiting for them—he didn’t want to watch Noctis brood. That boy’s sad face could turn the clouds grey, couldn’t it? No need for all that! 

He contemplated a way to bring Noctis out of his funk. For the sake of his friends as much as for Noctis (and himself). 

Ignis was the one who finally brought it up. Albeit indirectly. “Perhaps we should go to Galdin Quay again, majesty,” he suggested one night. “Not for any quest. Just to see the sights.” He paused and added, “One last hurrah before we continue on to Altissia.” 

There. At last, a mention of finality. Of the fact that they needed to be moving on sooner or later. ‘One last hurrah.’

Noctis’s face turned downwards, covered by his shaggy bangs. “Yeah,” he said eventually. “Sure.” But no one could see his expression. Probably, the others looked away so they didn’t have to.

They knew. No one wanted to talk about it, but they knew. It was a public secret at this point. The only reason they didn’t talk about it was to spare Noctis’s feelings. 

Which might have been an impossible task in the end.

_________________________________________

Nothing could beat the view in Galdin Quay at night. It was probably the most beautiful place in Lucis, outside of Insomnia anyway. Especially on the docks. Away from everyone else. Alone with the night sky and the sea and fish that swam by every so often. Tickling Noctis’s feet that were dangling in the water. Unafraid of him, which was so weird. Most fish were terrified of people. But not the ones in Galdin Quay. They seemed so used to human presence.

One of the many things that Noctis envied about this place.

It was a cool evening. Well past dinner time. The guys were already in bed; they’d sprung for the luxury suite again since this was supposed to be their ‘last hurrah.’ So they were back at the hotel when Noctis snuck away to sit on the docks for a bit.

Good. He’d dragged his friends around enough. Those guys deserved to be comfortable. As much as possible until this was all over.

And Noctis was starting to think maybe it would never be over. So. Let them get the best stuff, the most comfortable rooms, everything they wanted…if only it could be enough.

Noctis wanted to give them so much more. He wanted to give everyone so much more. That was really the main problem. He wanted to be what everyone needed from him. The king, the savior, the light, the chosen one…Noctis actually did want to be all those things. He’d promised Luna he would be. And his kingdom. His dad, he’d promised—

Swirling his feet in the ocean, Noctis pressed his arms into his stomach. It wasn’t a hug. He couldn’t hug himself if he tried, and besides that’s not how hugs worked. He just…he just thought maybe if he pressed hard enough that feeling in his stomach would go away. That sinking feeling. Falling down a pit, getting trapped and never being able to find your way out. 

Stuck.

Alone. 

In way over his head.

The water was getting colder. It was late, now. Noctis looked up at the clear sky. It was crazy how the stars were so visible from here. He wondered if the Astrals were up there, watching. If Nyx was, if he’d gone wherever you went when you used the Ring. If maybe his dad was…

Okay. The truth was, Noctis never had the best relationship with his dad. Even though everyone in the kingdom liked to talk about Regis like he was father of the year, Regis had a lot of faults. For one, he was hardly ever around. Another thing, he seemed to know a lot of shit about how Insomnia would fall and he never thought to tell Noctis any of it. He lied. He prioritized people’s lives in his own image. He could callous, unfeeling when Noctis went to him for normal kid problems (“I’m having trouble making friends at school.” “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”)

There was the throne room. The place Noctis was never allowed to go on his own. The cruel, looming doors of that room which kept his father away from him, like a prison. Noctis once thought to sit at those doors and wait, wanting to see his father in an inconsolable way. He sat there for hours before Ignis found him. 

Right, so, yeah. Attachment issues. Regis was a king first, a father second. Noctis always had to deal with that. 

But…all of that aside, Noctis loved his father. A lot. He remembered his father spending so much time with him in Tenebrae. At his bedside every minute, helping him recover. He remembered nights when Regis was exhausted from work but still came in to read him a story before bedtime. He remembered a father who had looked at him so lovingly before Noctis left for the last time. There was pride in Regis’s eyes that day. A pride that made Noctis feel awkward then—and now, a pride Noctis felt like he hadn’t earned. Would never earn. 

Noctis missed his dad so much. He wished he could talk to him. Regis wasn’t always there when Noctis needed him, but when it was something really serious, Regis knew to listen. He could be a great listener. A good secret keeper. Somehow, Regis was the first person Noctis ever told about his feelings for Ignis (yeah, Ignis had been his first crush, shortly before Gladiolus who was Noctis’s second. And then, of course, Prompto after that). 

And Regis understood. Without question. He patted Noctis on the shoulder and told him, “Well, you could certainly do worse. Ignis is a fine young man. If I were your age, I might be taken with him too.” 

Even being thirteen, Noctis had tackled his dad right then and there into the biggest hug ever. Regis laughed and hugged him back. 

Noctis never questioned whether he had Regis’s support. He knew he did. And that…maybe he had taken that for granted back then. Because now…

He could really use that support right now. 

He missed his dad so much. Way, way more than he thought he ever would. Suddenly losing him like that…Noctis didn’t know if he could ever recover. Sometimes it felt like he’d always be trying to make up for that loss. To act like he was fine when he really wasn’t. To pretend to be the king his people needed when he really probably couldn’t be. 

Noctis wished Regis were here with him. To talk to about all this. He couldn’t talk to the guys about it. They wouldn’t understand, Noctis didn’t expect them to. They were already more than enough. 

If he had to be stranded, homeless and without guidance, he wouldn’t want to be with anyone other than his three best friends. Noctis secretly thanked whatever was out there that he still had them. 

He just…worried. 

He worried all the time about losing them. That because of this—this quest, or like, shit show, whatever—something bad might happen to them. Noctis worried so much about that it became like a swamp of anxiety in the back of his mind. Mired muck lurking on the edge of his thoughts at all times. Always there, never really given a voice.

Noctis couldn’t lose them too. He just couldn’t. 

The lights around Galdin Quay started to go out. Noctis thought about heading in, but…he just wasn’t ready. 

He looked out at the pitch black horizon and thought of Luna. He hoped she was okay wherever she was. Altissia, probably, since that’s where she was supposed to be. He hoped the city was holding up alright. 

Noctis just wanted everyone to be okay. Why was it so hard for people to be okay?! 

“Good evening, Noct. May I join you?” 

Whipping around at the sound of his name, Noctis found himself staring down Ardyn. Part of him had already known who it would be—Ardyn’s voice was unmistakable and its timbre lived somewhere in Noctis’s subconscious. He probably recognized that voice on some level even from the first word. 

Noctis shrugged and turned away. He wasn’t ready to be around people, but he didn’t have the energy to be rude right now. “Up to you.” 

Ardyn took that as an invitation and helped himself to a seat on the dock right next to Noctis. He rolled up the cuff of his pants and took his boots and socks off. He let his feet dangle in the water alongside Noctis’s. 

“Ah, that is refreshing,” Ardyn added.

He was gazing into the distance as if he could see something. For a second, his face twisted into a kind of grimace, then he turned away. Just like that, the look was gone. Back to normal.

Whatever normal was for a guy like Ardyn. Noctis had been around him long enough to develop a whole host of feelings for this guy. Each one more complicated than the next. Ardyn was…something. Noctis didn’t know if he was up to facing all those strange feelings tonight. Not right now.

He was overwhelmed. Over-loaded. Grief and stress and worry. He was tired. 

Yawning, Noctis rested his hand on his chin and said nothing. He wasn’t even trying to be bad company (like he sometimes did to keep a comfortable distance from the world). He just really didn’t have anything to say. 

“What a lovely evening for a breath of fresh air,” Ardyn commented. “Good for the soul, isn’t it?” 

Noctis wouldn’t know. His own soul felt like a weight in his chest most of the time. “I guess.” 

“Your friends don’t seem as comfortable in the dark, though,” Ardyn went on to say. “Not like you.” 

That was a weird comment. Noctis frowned. “What does that mean?” 

Ardyn leaned back on his hands nonchalantly. “Well. We both know not many people would want to venture out at this time of night. As close as we are to the haven and to the restaurant, the daemons might still come.” 

Noctis sighed. “I don’t care about the daemons. I can take care of them.”

“Indeed.” 

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Ardyn said, “Of course, you’ve got much bigger things on your mind, don’t you?” 

Flinching, Noctis took his feet out of the water. He sat cross-legged, curling into himself. Ardyn was right obviously. A few daemons were the least of his worries! But he didn’t know if Ardyn meant that as a joke or not. A way to show how silly Noctis was being about all this—about everything. Noctis must look like the biggest joke in the world to a guy like Ardyn, a guy who had been everywhere and done everything. A wanderer. An older man. Noctis must seem like a crybaby and a wimp. So why should Ardyn take him seriously? 

He glanced at Ardyn in his peripheral vision. Secretly, Noctis looked up to Ardyn so much. He wished he could more like him. Calm and collected. Cool. Not caring about anything that came their way. Full of stories. Always knowing what to say. Brave, especially about the things Noctis wasn’t. Ardyn was good with people and he never shied away from an experience. Noctis was the opposite. He worried all the time, over-thought things. Even with his friends.

In contrast, Ardyn was great with Noctis’s friends. 

Noctis might have been an emotional wreck most days, but he wasn’t stupid. He saw the way his friends’ lit up around Ardyn. Especially lately. Gladiolus was always patting Ardyn on the shoulder, always kind of touching him gratuitously. In a way he used to with Noctis, but not anymore. For some reason. A kind of easy, relaxed friendship. Mutual respect. Ardyn and Gladio drank beer together all the time now, mumbling their conversation to each other. 

And Prompto. Prompto danced around Ardyn like a small moon orbiting a planet. He constantly seemed hyper-excited to be in Ardyn’s presence, while at the same time low-key fidgety. As if there was something he wanted to say but couldn’t. Prompto was generally high energy, but around Ardyn it was different. 

Even Ignis! Noctis saw the subtle glances Ignis threw Ardyn’s way. Smiles barely hidden behind a hand. The way Ignis’s posture just…relaxed when Ardyn was around. Not as iron-straight. More fluent. Easy. Ignis smiled more in general these days, with Ardyn tagging along. 

Somehow, his friends had all become better friends with Ardyn than they were with him. That hurt, yeah. It made Noctis jealous. He hated that someone could just come in and be a better friend than him. But. At the same time…

Noctis was kind of grateful. He liked seeing his friends so happy. They all had problems of their own, Noctis knew. He was especially in tune to them, to every little thing that went on across their faces. Maybe that was survival (since his friends were keeping him alive), or maybe he’d just learned them well enough. Or maybe it was because he loved the shit out of them all. Individually, altogether. The whole thing. 

But Noctis knew. Gladiolus worried about his family a lot. His sister, his family duties. Too much of Gladiolus went to the things he needed to do, not to the things he wanted to do. Gladiolus didn’t even really have that many hobbies besides working out and stuff. It broke Noctis’s heart sometimes. He wished Gladio could have a better balance. 

Meanwhile, Prompto was way too self-conscious. He worried about how he looked, his body, his hair, his face. The way he talked and moved. Prompto worried about everything, always trying to be the _right_ thing. But he was already so beautiful, so perfect in his own way! Why did Prompto need to be like anyone else? Prompto being Prompto was the best thing ever.

And Ignis…Ignis scared Noctis sometimes. He would do whatever he had to in order to keep Noctis safe. That was good, yeah, Noctis really needed him, but…sometimes it could be scary. Because Ignis didn’t think about himself at all. He didn’t seem interested in his own well-being sometimes, he could just be so concerned with doing his job as Noctis’s retainer. Like maybe one day Ignis might actually hurt himself trying to save him—that was a very real possibility—and Noctis didn’t know if he could live with that. 

In the end, Noctis wished he could be more like Ardyn. More casual about his feelings. Less of a burden on his friends, more of a help to them. 

He wanted Ignis to look at him the way he looked at Ardyn. For Gladiolus to offer him a beer and a chill night. For Prompto to feed off his energy. He wanted to be what they needed. 

But he couldn’t be. Noctis just wasn’t…good enough. 

He really wished his dad were still alive. Regis would know what to do. Yeah. 

“They know, you know.” 

“What?” Noctis was getting lost in his own head. 

“Your friends.” Ardyn ran his hand through the water. “They know you don’t want to go to Altissia.” 

Noctis jolted, rising almost to his knees. “I never said I didn’t—”

“You didn’t have to, my dear.” Ardyn took one foot out of the water and tucked it under his opposite knee. Facing Noctis in a conversational, open kind of way. “It was clear enough.” 

“But I…” Noctis trailed off.

It wasn’t true. Noctis would go to Altissia and do everything he needed to do—he would, really—he would marry Luna and do the whole communing with Leviathan thing. He would do it all. He would! And he—

—well he…

….He didn’t actually want to. No. Yeah. No, it was true. He didn’t want to go. 

Deflating, Noctis reverted back to a gloomy lump. His silence spoke volumes, but. What could he possibly say in his own defense? 

That he was a shitty king? An even shittier friend? A loser? The exact wrong kind of person to entrust with the fate of his kingdom, much less the fate of the world?

Right. All that. 

“…sorry.” 

It was a terrible apology. No reason given. Just a ‘sorry’ by itself, hoping to make up for everything wrong with Noctis that Ardyn and his own friends could clearly see.

“Hmm?” Ardyn leaned closer. “What did you say?” 

Anger flared as Noctis ran out of all other self defense mechanisms. “I said, sorry, okay? Sorry for…you know.” 

Ardyn paused. Then, quieter, he asked, “What are you sorry for?” 

Tch. More like, what _didn’t_ Noctis have to be sorry for? He was pretty sure Ardyn was fucking with him at this point, but he would still play along because he didn’t have the energy to be witty or sarcastic right now. 

“Sorry for everything. The whole, like…I mean…” Noctis buried his hand in his hair. Actually, this was a lot harder to say than he anticipated. 

Admitting the truth. His failures, the weakness in him. His feelings. The things he didn’t know how to deal with. The way he just wanted to be saved—not even…not saved. Just…how he didn’t know if he could do any of the things he was supposed to do and he wanted someone to tell him that was okay. That they were okay. He was okay. That things were at least a little bit okay. 

Noctis was ashamed to want that. It was the last thing a king should want. How much of a loser could you be? 

So.

“Yeah. I’m just sorry, man. For everything.” Tears welled up in Noctis’s eyes. He hated them, but he also couldn’t care anymore. “For not being the king I’m supposed to be. For not being…fucking anything.” 

The moments of silence that followed his confession were pure agony. Noctis cried—as quietly as he could—and ached for the loss of his father. For the friends he was letting down. For the kind of love he would never have in his life—real, unconditional love. Every kind of love available to Noctis was contingent upon his success. And he was not exactly succeeding right now. 

Then Ardyn put a gentle hand on his shoulder. The man’s hands were cold, but sturdy. His touch was soft. Reassuring. Although…not quite enough to make Noctis feel anything other than sad. Here he was crying in front of some guy he barely knew. A guy Noctis was jealous of and mostly wanted to impress. 

“Noct, you are many things. And the things you aren’t yet, the things you think you should be…” Ardyn sighed. Surprisingly weary. “Those things are not quite what they’re cracked up to be. Trust me."

Okay. So…that wasn’t what Noctis expected to hear. He glanced at Ardyn, knowing his face was a mess. 

Ardyn was looking into the distance again. His eyes fixed on something Noctis couldn’t see. Something that brought a foreboding, serious aura to Ardyn’s otherwise casual face. Maybe something frightening. Or painful. 

He went on. “There have been many kings, Noct. And queens. Rulers. Young, old, strong, weak. Rulers in times of war and in times of peace. They all have one thing in common, I believe.” 

Noctis was sort of spellbound by the way Ardyn spoke. He listened, forgetting his own tears for a second. 

“That is: None of them chose to be where they were. A strong ruler does not lead his people into war for the glory, they fight when the need arises. And none of them asked to sit the throne. Except…” Ardyn blinked slowly. “…except for one. And as for him…a ruler should not aspire to be like him. Not in the slightest.”

Ardyn’s eyes cut harshly back to Noctis. “In my opinion. What I’m trying to say is if you wanted this, Noct, you would be the wrong person for the job. The best kind of person does not act because they want to. They just…do things.” Ardyn waved his hand as he said that last part. “They do what they can.” 

The words refused to sink in all the way. That would take a much, much longer time than the time they had to sit on the docks in Galdin Quay. But Ardyn kept his hand on Noctis’s shoulder while the younger man thought. Silent. For once. 

Noctis had a feeling Ardyn had made some difficult decisions in his life. Things that he hadn’t wanted to do. Maybe even things he regretted. In that moment, Noctis wanted to hear all about them. 

“Can you…?” Noctis was raw, vulnerable. He felt suddenly like he was speaking to an equal; someone that really understood the type of burden on his shoulders. “…would you…stay with me? While I…do things?” 

It took Ardyn more than a minute to answer. A stressful, painful minute. But he gave his reply. 

“Yes, Noct. I’ll stay with you.” Ardyn smoothed some of the stray hairs away from Noctis’s face. An absentminded but sincere gesture. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

After that…Noctis couldn’t be sure what made him do it. Maybe it was because the air had gotten so cold and Ardyn was comparably much warmer. Radiating heat like a normal person. Maybe because Ardyn’s wide body and long arms invited it. Maybe because Ardyn was so wise in that moment, just like a father figure. Maybe because Noctis needed to do it so bad he couldn’t stop himself anymore…

Regardless, Noctis went for it.

He threw himself into Ardyn’s arms and squeezed the life out of him. He clung to Ardyn for dear life, burying his face in the folds of Ardyn’s coat like a little kid. Wiping tears against the burly fabric. Inhaling the older man’s unique, musky scent. A scent that made Noctis shiver somewhere in the bottom of his stomach. 

So warm. So soft. Noctis held Ardyn and vowed to never let go. 

Slowly, Ardyn returned the hug. Just with a few pats at first. Then, hesitantly, an actual hug. Little by little he gave in. He pressed Noctis’s head to his chest and rubbed his back. Embracing him like he knew exactly what Noctis needed.

Maybe he did. Because Noctis had been needing a hug like this for a long time. Ever since Regis died. Even before that. Forever. 

He squeezed Ardyn impossibly tighter. In the space between Ardyn’s warm layers and the night air, he whispered the rest of his secrets.

“I miss him.” No need to specify who. 

“I love them so much.” Again, no need to specify. 

“I don’t want to fail.” 

“I want it to stay like this forever.” 

To each one, Ardyn said a variation of the same thing: “I know, darling. I know.” 

He held him for a long, long time. He held him long enough to make Noctis feel a tiny bit more secure. That if nothing else, the two of them were okay. Just the two of them against the dark sea all around. He held him long enough to prove that it was possible for someone to hug him like that. Possible for Noctis to overcome one of his gut-wrenching anxiety attacks. 

When dawn came, everything felt a little more possible.

_____________________________________________

They decided to take the long way to Cape Caem. After that night in Galdin Quay, Noctis apologized to his friends for being so moody and decreed that they should at last head to Altissia. Before it got any later. His friends assured him, sincerely, that there was nothing to forgive.

And, nonetheless, they all agreed that they should go around Lucis one more time. Their last hurrah turning into one last world tour. A picture of the five of them at every stop. No more fetch quests; this time was just for them. 

It was a hell of a lot of fun.

Ardyn would be the first one to admit it. He’d come…well, he’d come full circle. He was in a place now that he’d never expected to be. One he was more than fine with—one that might have just been the best thing to ever happen to him, even in all his long years—and one that he could not see a clear exit from. 

One that he might not _want_ a clear exit from. 

Around the clock, Ardyn tended to the four young men he called companions. Friends, even. At every turn, Ardyn was needed and he answered each call with merry gusto. 

His mornings were filled with Ignis, down by the riverbed. Dressing and undressing that man to his heart’s content. Spreading him open on his fingers or his cock, watching Ignis’s composed face dissolve into pleasure. His afternoons were for Prompto. Foot massages and clandestine delights wherever they could. Prompto was becoming a professional in the massage department and Ardyn was beginning to see a world where it was possible to orgasm from just feet alone. Maybe they were close. And even if they weren’t, it was still fun. 

His evenings were Gladiolus’s time. Sitting around a campfire and talking. Gladiolus sharing his intimate thoughts. His desires. Things he wanted from the world. Ardyn listening and growing a distinct soft spot for the man. This romantic thrust into the life of a soldier. Hard in body and spirit, soft in heart. Amazing. 

And his nights? Times when he could be monopolized by Noctis. The young king stole into Ardyn’s bed every single night, glomming onto him and refusing to let go. He wrapped his limbs around Ardyn like some kind of octopus and then purred contentedly like a cat. A…feline octopus. Or some kind of creature. Eldritch, possibly, but adorable. Noctis seemed to require these nightly cuddle sessions. If he didn’t get them, Noctis would be cranky and irritable for a good portion of the day. So, Ardyn made sure he was available. Leaving space in his bed or his sleeping bag. At first, Ardyn was not entirely sure if this sleeping arrangement between him and Noctis would turn into a sexual thing. Noctis did not seem to want sex at all in the beginning. He exclusively just wanted hugs. So perhaps it was all innocent, just a young man in need of some tender love and care. Ardyn was fine with that. He could get his fill with the others.

But then, one night, he felt a distinct bulge pressing against the small of his back. Noctis’s legs were splayed across Ardyn’s waist, holding him in place. The feeling was unmistakable. It was to be expected, after all, considering Noctis’s age. Combined with the intimacy of the situation. Noctis forever on top of him, forever in his arms. 

He glanced behind him to see if Noctis was awake. So he was. Very, in fact. 

“Uh…sorry!” Noctis immediately began slinking away. He turned around, blushing and sputtering. “That was just, um…I mean…I don’t even…” 

“It’s quite alright, Noct,” Ardyn said, a smile rising to his lips. How cute, Noctis getting embarrassed over a hard-on like it was some kind of infraction. “It’s normal, my dear. Entirely normal. I’d hardly expect any less.” 

Gentling somewhat, Noctis laid down on his side. He faced Ardyn. Curious. His porcelain face gleamed in the darkness. 

From there, Ardyn got the whole story. Noctis was not quite like everyone else in terms of his sexuality. There was a word for what he was (Ardyn committed it to memory easily enough, since it reminded him of classic literature: Demisexual), but Noctis didn’t go around using that word so much. All it meant for him was that he wasn’t attracted to people as soon as he met them, that sex wasn’t always at the forefront of his mind. Instead, Noctis took time to warm up to someone and then fell in love with people he had a strong connection to. Once that connection was formed, he fell pretty fucking hard. Sex was definitely an option for him at that point. For sure.

“I see,” Ardyn commented. “So then that means you’ve…warmed to me, have you?” 

Noctis blushed fiercely again. His lips pursed, but he nodded. Apparently yes, it did mean that. 

“Well, in that case, would you like me to…help you with that?” Ardyn glanced at Noctis’s hard-on. Making his intentions known.

“Uh, n-no, that’s okay…” Noctis bit his lip. Something like shame on his face. “Can we just…cuddle?” 

Ardyn spread his arms wide. Inviting Noctis in. “Certainly!” 

He learned the rest of the story that night. With the way he was, Noctis had never had sex before. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d be good at it. But, if he was ever going to do it, he wanted his first time to be with his friends. The three of them were the only people Noctis could realistically see himself having sex with. From the time he was thirteen all the way to now, that had never changed. Noctis couldn’t exactly explain why. 

His only sexual fantasies were about the guys. He entertained…a variety of interesting scenarios. In hushed tones, when all the lights were out, Noctis told Ardyn his fantasies. The things he wished he could do with the others. Ardyn rumbled as he listened to such lewd daydreams—this was just over the top! How could there be so much sexual tension in one group? Did it even make sense, from a sheer probability perspective?

Spectacular. 

Either way, Ardyn thoroughly enjoyed these nights with Noctis. He enjoyed a good snuggle in its own right. Plus, he felt supremely needed in these moments (not a bad thing, by his reckoning) because Noctis burrowed into him and did not release his grip until daylight.

And by the time daylight came, it was Ignis’s turn again. On and on it went. Around the clock.

These boys would be the death of him. Not even immortality could save Ardyn from this fate.

By itself, Ardyn would have welcomed such a scenario. He’d grown to care for these four young men quite deeply. Much more than he thought he ever would. An alarming amount, really. Ardyn didn’t know if he could find it in him to bring a world of ruin upon these horribly needy, beautiful boys. 

How could he? 

At the end of the day, Ardyn still had his heart. It was the one of the few things left intact over the millennia—he sometimes forgot it was even there—but still. Ardyn felt it. Right now, these boys were keeping his heart alive with a vengeance. Refusing to let it die. Forcing him to face the possibility of a new reality, one where the plan never came to fruition. 

That…could happen, Ardyn reasoned. He could abandon everything and make the choice to see these boys happy if it was the last thing he did. Yes. He could do that.

But it was a big decision! If Ardyn were to decide that, he’d need to be alone for a while. Ruminate. Turn it over in his mind a few times. Away from the scrabbling arms and delicious bodies of those four. 

The way things stood at the moment, Ardyn did not know if he even could leave. His companions had become remarkably dependent upon him. They needed him around to sate their needs. Since he was the only one amongst any of them who could. That was inconvenient. Untenable, really. Ardyn could not guarantee that he would always be around for them. Things…happened. 

Besides, there were only so many hours in a day! These men kept Ardyn to a nearly impossible schedule logistically speaking and they were running him ragged. 

Perhaps they needed a new outlook on this friendship of theirs.

It seemed like the only tenable option. If they were all to get what they needed. 

Ardyn knew what must be done.

______________________________________________

The five of them sat around a dwindling campsite. The morning had just started, but before Ignis left for his daily ablutions, Ardyn suggested they have a chat. 

A brief chat, he assured them. Nothing serious. 

The campfire from last night was still smoking. Mostly ash, but there were probably still some embers hidden underneath. There has to be. Where there was smoke, or so the saying went. It had to be true on some level. 

Four pairs of hesitant eyes stared at Ardyn. Waiting for him to explain what he needed to ‘chat’ about. This was outside the realm of their normal routine, enough to send up warning signals right away. 

Ardyn could live with that. 

“So. Here we are.” He looked at each of them in turn. He knew them all so well…even better than they knew each other. “Let me start by saying it’s been a pleasure to travel with you all.” He held one hand to his heart. “Truly. You four have given me such a wonderful experience on this road trip. A trip I was never even meant to be part of. So, thank you for that.”

They were all too on edge to accept his thanks. They kept staring at him warily. 

“As we traveled, you all trusted me with your secrets. Swore me to silence under any means necessary.” He smiled. Reminiscing. Noticing a few blushes. “And I’ve kept my promises. Completely. 

“But, since this little road trip seems to be coming to an end…” Ardyn rose to his feet. “I think it’s time we dispensed with the secrecy. Let’s stop the charades and bring this where it should be.” He licked his lips and rubbed his hands together. A showman as much as he was a greedy bastard. “I’ll admit I’ve been looking forward to it for some time.” 

He gestured towards Noctis, beckoning him closer. All four of them—Noctis especially, since he had found an equal counterpart in the older man, and since he was perhaps the neediest of them all—trusted Ardyn implicitly. To their own peril, perhaps. But that was the side-effect of dependency. 

Ardyn would use it to his advantage this one time. Just this once, then no more.

Noctis stared at Ardyn, shifting his weight awkwardly. Having no idea what was coming. Grinning, Ardyn leaned forward and whispered some instructions in his ear. 

When he was finished, Noctis scowled. “…Huh?” He glanced over at Gladiolus and turned slightly pink. “…Are you sure?”

“I’m absolutely positive, my dear,” Ardyn drawled. Excitement crept into his veins. He could see this happening now. 

Noctis rubbed the back of his neck and took a few steps closer to Gladiolus. He held out his hands, then retracted them as if burned. He looked back at Ardyn one more time. “Really? I mean, you’re _really_ sure about this, right? One hundred percent?” 

Ardyn folded his hands together on his chest. Patient…but not incredibly so. “Yes. Entirely.” 

Noctis took a deep breath. “Okay…” he said shakily. 

He put both hands on Gladiolus’s shoulders. Gladiolus was sitting cross-legged on the ground like the rest of them, but he instinctually straightened his legs when Noctis touched him. His mahogany eyes were wide and shiny, the picture of uncertainty. He was lost—getting more lost in Noctis’s pretty, hesitant face. 

“Hey,” Noctis said softly. He lowered himself into a sitting position. Settling comfortably into Gladiolus’s lap. A place he had never been before. More than a breach of boundaries; it was a fucking revolution. 

Prompto and Ignis looked on, enthralled. 

“…Hi.” Gladiolus put his hands on Noctis’s waist and almost smiled. That little twitch of the lips broke the tension, and then suddenly they were both laughing. Chuckling at the weirdness of everything—and at the weird familiarity too. How easy it was for Noctis to crawl into Gladiolus’s lap like it was a normal thing. 

With the laughter, everything was easier. 

Noctis leaned in and kissed Gladiolus softly on the lips. He stroked the side of his friend’s face, kissing like a man who had never kissed before. Because that’s exactly what he was. But even though he was all soft lips and teasing touches, Noctis kept kissing him. Tilting his face to get a better angle. So clearly wanting to do more.

Gladiolus pulled away. Confusion spread across his features. “Noct…what…?” 

Licking his lips, tasting Gladio, Noctis just shrugged. “Ardyn told me you wanted this. And I, um…” He ran his hands down Gladiolus’s chest. Reverently. Trembling ever so slightly. “…I want it too. Since like, forever.” 

The confusion gave way to sheer empathy. Gladiolus cradled Noctis’s face in both hands and looked like he might cry. “Seriously, Noct? Is that true?” 

Noctis kissed his wrist. Eager to keep kissing. “Yeah. It’s true, man. You better believe it.” 

Breath escaped Gladiolus’s open mouth and then he dove in for another kiss. This one was harder, needier. More urgent. Gladiolus apparently did not want to take things slow. He wanted to kiss the hell out of Noctis. They pawed at each other as their kiss turned passionate. Little by little, their clothes came off.

“Whoa…” Prompto swallowed hard and reached vaguely for his camera. Even with his camera in hand, he never managed to take a picture because he couldn’t tear his eyes away for a second.

These were two of his best friends making out in front of him. An emergency situation! Prompto had not been trained for this!

He watched, inching closer without realizing.

While that was going on, Ardyn came up behind Ignis. He wrapped his hands around Ignis’s waist and starting teasing. Playing with the buttons on Ignis’s clothes, rubbing his hand on Ignis’s backside—his very _occupied_ backside. 

“Nnnh…” Ignis shivered in Ardyn’s hands. These were hands he was very accustomed to at this point. Ignis—more accurately, Ignis’s body—knew to expect pleasure from these hands. He could taste glorious release in the slightest caress from Ardyn, knowing he wouldn’t be denied. 

“Let’s show them your little secret, my love,” Ardyn cooed in his ear. He was already undoing the buttons of Ignis’s dress shirt.

“I…no, are you…certain?” Ignis head fell back on Ardyn’s shoulder. Letting himself be exposed.

“Oh yes. You are far too beautiful a thing to keep to myself.” Ardyn spread Ignis’s shirt, baring a black lace bra with white trimming to the campsite. The others had their backs turned, but Ardyn wasn’t done. He slid the shirt off Ignis and started working on his pants. 

This couldn’t be real. Ignis stood in nothing but his underthings—a sexy black thong Ardyn bought for him and a bra he was wearing for first time. In the middle of the day. Where all his friends could see. 

And he was painfully aroused. Obviously so. Knees wobbly, eyes dazed. Mouth open. Panting. 

He wanted them to look…if Ardyn said it was okay, then…Ignis could probably trust that it would be. Or maybe…he desperately wanted it to be. 

“Please…” Ignis whispered. Signaling to Ardyn that he was ready. 

“Prompto, my good man,” Ardyn called. “Will you come have a look at this for a second?” 

Trying two separate times to rip his gaze from Noctis and Gladiolus (who were on the ground now, shirtless, with Gladiolus straddling Noctis’s hips like he was getting ready to go for a ride), Prompto finally managed to turn around.

“What is—holy….shit!” Prompto was transfixed the second he laid eyes on Ignis. He ran over to the two of them and stared hard at every inch of Ignis that was exposed. His hands hovered near the lace bra, itching to touch on instinct. But he pulled away at the last second. 

“Ignis…!” Prompto glanced up at his friend’s face. Finding him red and out of breath. “You look amazing! Seriously, I can’t even…” He gaped like a fish and swallowed hard. “…you’re so fucking beautiful. It’s like, not even fair.” 

Moaning in the back of his throat—Prompto had no way of knowing beforehand that he’d pressed exactly the right button for Ignis, but he knew now—Ignis reached for Prompto. He yanked him close for a kiss. Hungry and full-mouthed, tongues out. Lapping at the inside of Prompto’s mouth like it was a meal. 

Prompto melted into the touch right away. His hands roamed over Ignis’s lace-clad body. He fiddled with the straps on the bra, with the cups as they covered Ignis’s modest bosom. His thumbs grazed Ignis’s nipples incidentally and Ignis gasped. Grinning, Prompto knew to do that again. He slid his fingers underneath the bra and played with Ignis’s nipples until a cry tore out of Ignis’s throat. 

“Shit…” Prompto cupped himself over his jeans. He stole a glance at Ignis’s feet. There they were—those beauties. Dainty but strong muscled. Toned. A gymnast’s feet. Standing barefoot against the dirt of the campsite like it was no big deal. 

A million urges ran through Prompto all at once. He didn’t know what the hell he should do, so he just kept kissing Ignis. Getting harder by the second, with each amazing new expression on Ignis's face.

“That’s not all our brilliant strategist has on underneath his clothes,” Ardyn added. He tugged Ignis’s shoulders, turning him around so that his back was facing the group. 

With clever fingers, Ardyn pulled aside the g-string on Ignis’s panties. Revealing the base of the toy jammed in his ass. 

“Wow…” Prompto fell to his knees. Unable to stop himself. He traced the outline of the base around Ignis’s crevice, completely mesmerized. 

Now Noctis and Gladiolus were looking as well. Distracted by the commotion and then…the sight.

“Holy fuck, Iggy!” Noctis cried. He was pinned by Gladiolus, but it looked like he wanted to run over to his friend. “You’re incredible!” 

“Damn, man…” Gladiolus was down to his boxers. He rubbed his backside against Noctis’s crotch, coaxing that manhood to hardness. Eager for a taste of what Ignis was getting. “Didn’t know you were keeping that to yourself this whole time. Seems like you’re hogging all the good stuff…” 

Ignis gripped Ardyn’s shoulders for dear life. He fought the desire to bend over and fuck himself on the toy where his friends could see. He wanted to do it, to an obscene extent, but it was…could he really? Wouldn’t they think he was…? 

“I’m…amenable to sharing…” Ignis tossed out. Relieved that Gladiolus seemed to have similar desires to his own, at least. 

Maybe it wasn’t so—

Prompto tugged the plug halfway out of Ignis’s ass, then shoved it back in experimentally. Ignis went boneless, wrapping his arms around Ardyn’s neck and roaring in pleasure.

Prompto did it again. Slowly fucking that plug in and out of his friend, watching Ignis’s whole body quiver. Wondering if it was possible to pass out from an erection so stiff it left no blood for the rest of him. 

“That’s it, Prompto,” Ardyn applauded. “You always were a quick study.” 

Prompto flashed the older man a sloppy smile. He was too focused to do much else. If he angled the plug just like _that_ , then Ignis’s knees buckled. The only thing keeping him standing was his grip on Ardyn’s shoulders. He could see Ardyn’s free hand rubbing the front of Ignis’s panties. He could see where Ardyn’s fingers played in between Ignis’s legs.

“W-wait…! Ah, a moment, please!” Ignis rocked his hips back and forth, in time to Prompto’s thrusts with the plug. Even as he begged for mercy, he couldn’t stop himself. “If you keep—ah! I’ll…I’ll cum!”

Ardyn kissed the side of Ignis’s face. He wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him steady. Preparing. “Well, that’s something we’d all like to see. Isn’t it, Prompto?” 

“Uh-huh.” Senseless, Prompto leaned forward and licked the rim of Ignis’s ass where it was stretched out by the toy. He kept fucking him, wagging his tongue wildly, hoping it added to the sensation for his friend.

He wanted to make Ignis cum. 

“I…I’m—!” Like that, Ignis came. In front of everyone, because of the toy and the tongue in his ass. And Ardyn’s fingers. And…their eyes. 

He came so hard he pulled them all to the ground as he emptied himself. Legs kicking in all directions. Scrabbling for purchase against Ardyn’s neck. 

As Ignis finished, Prompto ran out of self control. He threw himself on top of Ignis and started kissing him like crazy. He flipped him over onto his back and went nuts. Licking everything, making a mess of that fancy bra, leaving faint teeth marks and lines of saliva across Ignis’s body. While the man himself slowly came back to his senses. 

“What a lovely sight,” Ardyn added, backing away from the pair of them. Letting their threesome become a group of two. “Perfection, I’d say.”

That wasn’t a lie. Nor an exaggeration. These men were all gorgeous together, as Ardyn always hoped. Noctis and Gladiolus were fully naked now. Gladiolus was working Noctis’s cock into his mouth, swallowing down his liege’s member like a professional. The whites of his eyes showed where his eyelids didn’t quite close. Obviously Gladiolus had been gasping for the chance to get his mouth around that cock. And he was clearly not disappointed. Noctis writhed beneath him—a virgin in that regard (well, in every regard)—and just tried to withstand it.

Good.

Ardyn stood above Prompto and Ignis. “Now, Prompto,” he said conversationally while Prompto lapped up the cum on Ignis’s stomach. “Why don’t you explain exactly what part of him you’ve always dreamed of getting your hands on?” 

Prompto froze for a moment. He looked nervously from Ardyn to Ignis. Still euphoric from his climax, Ignis stroked Prompto’s face with a kind smile. He’d probably be interested in any suggestion right now. But yeah, it was only fair to be honest…since he knew what Ignis liked…

Steeling himself, Prompto kissed his way down to Ignis’s feet. When he got there, he shuddered viscerally and immediately started sucking on Ignis’s toes. They were ridiculously perfect toes. Long and well-manicured. Clean. Fucking elegant. Prompto pulled his cock out while he sucked those toes, stroking himself just to keep even a little piece of his sanity. 

“Oh…” Ignis sat up on his elbows. He watched Prompto with fascination. “Is it…my feet you’ve been captivated with, Prompto?” 

Eyes glistening, Prompto nodded. When Ignis didn’t freak out right away, he took a moment to actually explain. “Yeah. You have really great feet, dude. All of you do. It’s…hard for a guy like me.” 

A guy like me. That said it all. 

Ignis smiled again and leaned back. “Ah, I see. Well then, I appreciate the compliment. Considering the source.” He brought his foot back up to Prompto’s face. Offering it for free, like the world’s best gift. “Please, keep going.” 

Joy shattered the rest of Prompto’s sanity. He stuck Ignis’s foot in his mouth and tugged his friend’s panties down. His fingers sought out Ignis’s hole again, spreading him with ease since he was still open from the plug. He fucked Ignis on his fingers as he licked his foot, hoping there was a way to get them both off at the same time. He’d fucking find it if there was. Every sound that escaped Ignis was pure ecstasy. 

Ardyn took in the whole view of the ruined campsite. Gladiolus was now piercing himself on Noctis’s cock, riding it like the cowboy he was born to be. Noctis’s face was scrunched up—in pleasure, for once, not grumpiness. He held onto Gladiolus’s hand, fingers intwined. Intimate. Somehow those two were already a couple, even though this was their first time together. 

They were match made in heaven. Noctis, a man who needed all the love in the world. And Gladiolus, a man with more love in his heart than he knew what to do with. Putting them together first was an obvious choice.

Prompto and Ignis? Another Astral-blessed pair. The exhibitionist and the body worshipper. Did it get any better than that? 

But Ardyn could also tell these were not just two couples. These were four men who would belong to each other—equally and completely—from now on. They would mix and match as they liked. Noctis and Ignis needed to fuck each other soon otherwise one of them might very well perish from unrequited need. And Prompto’s larger than average dick could give Gladiolus the kind of ride that man craved. 

They’d be fine. 

And they didn’t… Well. They didn’t need Ardyn anymore. Not when they had each other to satisfy their needs. Ardyn was a romantic—sure—but he wasn’t a lovelorn fool. He knew when to bow out. In fact, now might be the best time. A time when they were all distracted and couldn’t offer him some stilted, half-hearted goodbyes…

With a flourish, Ardyn crept out of the haven. 

…

He made it two steps before Noctis called him back. “Hey, Ardyn! Wait!” 

The rest followed. 

“Where you going, big guy?” Prompto shouted. “We’re just getting started!” 

“Yes, you must come join us, Ardyn,” Ignis added. “At once, if you please.” 

“Heh.” Gladiolus shook his hips on Noctis’s cock and said, “Yeah, don’t think we’re letting you walk away that easy. Get over here, you bastard.” 

“Yeah man, come back! Seriously!” 

“ _Now_ , please.” 

“I mean, you promised…” 

Oh, these men. These men and their needs. Their love and their persistent yearning. They’d never let Ardyn go, would they? 

Smiling from ear to ear, Ardyn walked back into the haven. “I did promise, didn’t I?” 

Perhaps this was for the best, anyway. He could work out his course of action another time. Some time when he didn’t have four handsome young men mewling for him. 

Besides, best laid plans and all. Awry, etc. So on and so forth. You’ve heard it all before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this fic has been fun. I loved doing a deep dive on all these bros--yet again. It just doesn't get old.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading. Hope this is everything you dreamed of OP! Long live this fandom :)


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